


This is Yours

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Erica Reyes, Alive Hale Family, Alive Vernon Boyd, Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bi-Sexual Derek Hale, Closeted Stiles Stilinski, College Student Derek, College Student Stiles, Derogatory Language, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Getting Together, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Panic Attacks, Secret Relationship, Self-Hatred, Stiles Stilinski Has Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-18 23:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 73,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16128530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: ‘Lance’ had one hand against the back of his neck beneath his hood, and the other gripping the back of Derek’s head, sucking on his tongue almost lewdly while rocking his hips forward into Derek’s. A groan slid its way up his throat, and Derek broke the kiss, biting at the other’s full bottom lip.“Seriously,” he said loudly, “what’s your name?”“It’s a secret,” the other informed him, still smiling impishly, then dove in for another kiss.Derek decided to let it go for now, he had the rest of the night to get a name out of him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So just wanted to give a massively huge thank you to [Adara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adara/pseuds/adara) for being amazingly kind enough to proof this for me before it went up. This was a bit of a sensitive topic, and I really appreciate it <3<3  
> Also all the technical medical stuff for one of the characters in Nursing was corrected for accuracy by them, because they’re awesome and deserve all the good things, thank you so much <3<3<3<3 
> 
> **WARNING:** This piece contains a lot of self-deprecating language and sensitive themes around LGBTQ+. If you are extremely sensitive to this, I recommend skipping this piece. 
> 
> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis  
> (Ao3, be good to me and post on October 1st like you're supposed to!)

He was hot. Extremely hot. Exceptionally hot. Ridiculously hot. There were not enough words in the English language to adequately portray the level of hot he felt in this moment. He wondered if maybe the A/C was off, or if the mass of bodies was making everything a million times warmer than normal.

Though when he stopped to think about it, it was probably his costume. Because his costume had, not only long sleeves, but layers. So many fucking layers. Why had he thought this was a good idea? Yes, he looked amazing, and he was enjoying the compliments, but he was also hot enough he thought he might pass out.

Derek Hale made his way through the crowd of drunk, dancing college students, feeling sweat sliding down his back and distinctly uncomfortable with how fucking hot he was. It seemed to take him forever to make it out of the large hall, stumbling a little when someone bashed into him from behind, dancing excitedly and most likely completely wasted. Thankfully it just got him through the doors into the corridor faster.

Pulling the hood down of his Ezio Auditore costume from _Assassin’s Creed_ , he pushed through the doors at the end of the corridor and felt like steam was coming off his skin. It was cool outside, the good thing about the end of October in New York, and he closed his eyes, inhaling the crisp air and undoing the front of his jacket. His costume was extremely intricate, and thus difficult to remove, so he could only do so much, but having a bit of breathing room was doing wonders for his body temperature.

He knew he couldn’t stay outside long, though. He and one of the other Resident Advisors from his dorm were meant to be keeping an eye on all the freshmen. Technically speaking, they weren’t supposed to be letting anyone drink since a majority of them were underage, but this was university, and drinking was bound to happen, so it was best to let them do it in a safe environment.

Hence the massive party in the basement of the library. It was only their dorm, because he and the other RA Vernon Boyd had specifically booked it for them for Halloween. With how many people had shown up, it was evident the entire dorm was there, along with a few people who probably _weren’t_  in their dorm, but not too many. They had at least sixty people in their dorm and the party had about eighty, so not much of an increase.

Raking a hand through his sweaty hair, he inhaled the cold air once more before turning on his heel and heading back inside. Boyd would be annoyed if Derek left him alone to supervise the children.

Derek grinned at the thought of the freshmen knowing he was referring to them as children, pulling the hood back up after having ensured he had the front closed up properly. He headed back into the dark room, lights flashing almost epileptically fast. The bass was so loud it hurt his ears, but it was just for one night, so he tried not to let it bother him too much.

He could see Boyd near the back door, dressed in a wolf costume and dancing with his girlfriend. She was wearing a little red riding hood costume. How original. Derek wouldn’t be caught dead in a couple’s costume.

Despite the fact they were both meant to be watching out for the children, he and Boyd wanted to have fun, too. It was why they had some of their friends around to help out, and why Boyd was stationed near the back door while Derek was by the front.

Some of the freshmen had already left, but Derek had ensured they were sober and that one of the older kids in the dorm was heading back with them in a small group. The last thing they needed was something happening and Derek and Boyd getting murdered by angry parents. This was the second year in a row they’d hosted a party like this for their dorm though, and last year had been good. He had his fingers crossed for this year, as well, especially given it was his fourth year and he would be graduating in the summer, provided things went well.

He picked up a sealed can of Coke from the drinks table by the door, popping the tab and drinking down half the can, bobbing his head to the music. His eyes scanned over the writhing crowd and he laughed a little when he found someone dressed up as Lance from the new _Voltron_  TV show doing the sprinkler. The guy looked like he’d made the costume himself—unlike Derek, who’d bought it—and he was actually a little impressed. It looked really good, and had a helmet and everything.

When the guy was pushed closer to Derek by the crowd, still dancing like an idiot, Derek realized he looked like he was alone and just dancing with whoever was in his general vicinity. Letting out another laugh when he started on another ridiculous dance move, Derek made sure to keep an eye on the door and moved up closer to him.

“Nice moves,” Derek called loudly over the music.

The guy spun around, and Derek had to wonder how he could see anything. The hall was dark, and his helmet had a visor, covering almost his entire face barring his lips and chin.

The lips were twisting into a grin when he leaned closer and yelled back, “Thanks, I learned them from your mom!”

“I can tell, she’s a phenomenal dancer,” Derek responded loudly, barely able to hear him over the sound of the music.

The guy just laughed and kept up with the dance moves, shifting closer to Derek, who was making sure he kept an eye on the door. He hadn’t been planning on dancing with anyone, just hang out and have a good time, but he wasn’t going to look a gifthorse in the mouth.

He was still dancing like an idiot, but it looked like he was having a great time, so Derek just tried to mimic him as best he could, the two of them dancing facing each other. It was always hard to tell sometimes when people were just being friendly or kind of into him, and it was exceptionally hard for Derek to tell right now considering the guy’s eyes were hidden behind a black visor, but he liked to think his chances were pretty good.

It wasn’t like guys danced with other guys very often when they weren’t interested, and Mr. Voltron was extremely close to him. Derek reached out one hand carefully, placing it on ‘Lance’s’ waist, and smiled a little when the other man stepped closer, wrapping one arm around Derek’s neck and grinding his hips forward. He hadn’t done it _into_  Derek, but at least now it was evident the guy wasn’t fully straight.

Which worked out well for Derek, because neither was he. And he was up for a little fun, so long as they stayed by the door so he could keep an eye on it. He could see Isaac Lahey—a friend and fellow RA from another dorm—hanging out close to the door, chatting with a cute brunette. He’d probably noticed Derek a little distracted and having two semi-distracted RAs by the door was like having one focussed RA.

Isaac had come dressed as the Greek God Apollo, with a golden laurel wreath, sandals and everything. The brunette he was speaking to was dressed as Catwoman—Anne Hathaway, not Michelle Pfeiffer— and she kept laughing and leaning into him. Isaac was probably going to score tonight.

Derek might, too, if things continued with his mystery man, because they were pressed right against each other now, both of his new friend’s arms around Derek’s neck and their faces inches apart while they rocked their hips together.

“I’m Derek,” he said loudly, the music pulsing around them.

“I know,” the other replied with an impish smile.

“Not gonna share your name?”

“You can call me whatever you want,” was his response.

Derek just laughed and kept dancing with him, one arm wrapped around his middle and the other still holding his Coke. After a few songs, his can was empty, and he called that he was getting another drink, asking if his partner wanted something, as well. He confirmed he did, and Derek told him he’d be right back, heading quickly towards the drinks table.

He grabbed another Coke for himself, and a 7Up for his dancing partner. Isaac caught his eye and gave him a thumbs-up, but Derek just flipped him off and headed quickly back for the blue paladin, who was still dancing along to the music on the outskirts of the large crowd.

Derek knew why Isaac was being a bit of a dick, but really, he was kind of happy. He was bisexual, but tended to favour men over women for the most part. He’d dated a few women and gotten together with even more of them, but the men were harder to find. Being openly gay or bisexual was still something people tended to shy away from, which meant Derek hadn’t had as many relationships as he’d been hoping for.

Finding someone who was into guys was kind of a nice change for him for his final year, not that he was planning on jumping in bed with the guy.

Maybe. If the other party wanted to. But he was more interested in just dancing and having a good time tonight, they could chat about the rest in the morning.

He handed over the carbonated drink, and the two of them took a second to open their cans and take a few sips. They went back to dancing after that, both holding each other with only one hand since the other was occupied.

His companion finished his drink first, tossing it towards the large recycle bin by the door. Derek was impressed when he made the shot, and leaned closer to his ear to shout, “Not bad.”

“I’m surprised I made that,” he admitted with a laugh, both arms back around Derek’s neck and their faces exceptionally close.

When the music changed again, the guy said he was gonna get another drink, but Derek offered his up instead. Shrugging, his partner took it from him and downed the rest of it. He missed when he aimed for the recycle bin this time, but one of the people by the tables noticed and picked it up to put it where it belonged.

Derek laughed at the sour look they got, but didn’t dwell on it. Not like he wasn’t going to be stuck with cleanup duty in the morning, anyway.

After another few songs, the two of them inching closer and closer until they were pretty much just grinding against each other, faces so close they were breathing the same air, Derek bent down and kissed him. He was kissed back enthusiastically.

The other man tasted like sugar, probably from their drinks, but he knew how to kiss because it was definitely one of the better ones Derek had ever experienced. He reached up one hand to cradle his face, thumb moving up underneath the visor and stroking at his cheek.

‘Lance’ had one hand against the back of his neck beneath his hood, and the other gripping the back of Derek’s head, sucking on his tongue almost lewdly while rocking his hips forward into Derek’s. A groan slid its way up his throat, and Derek broke the kiss, biting at the other’s full bottom lip.

“Seriously,” he said loudly, “what’s your name?”

“It’s a secret,” the other informed him, still smiling impishly, then dove in for another kiss.

Derek decided to let it go for now, he had the rest of the night to get a name out of him.

They continued to dance—grind, more like—and make out as the night progressed. Derek had to step away every now and then to make sure people leaving were doing so with a group and that at least three of them were still sober, but his dancing companion always stayed nearby and waited for him.

By eleven, the crowd had thinned, and when midnight rolled around, the music lowered so that Boyd could announce that the party was ending in half an hour. They were also going to do some awards, which they hadn’t announced was happening, because it was more fun when people didn’t know.

At twenty after, the music stopped and the lights by the front cut on, Boyd standing on a large table with a microphone in one hand so he could call out the awards. Derek and his dancing buddy stopped what they were doing, though ‘Lance’ lingered on their last kiss a little, making Derek smile. He was going to get a name out of him if it _killed_  him.

They both turned to the front, Derek crossing his arms, and listened while Boyd announced the winners of the various awards they’d decided on.

It had been Derek’s job to choose the categories, along with the prizes, so it was Boyd’s job to decide on who had earned them. The first few were the usual: best costume, least recognizable, best group, best matching couple. The last four were the kickers.

One was best unknown character costume, the second was best book character costume, the third was best original costume, and the last was best crack couple costume.

Derek let out a loud laugh when Boyd motioned him and his partner, insisting that watching Ezio Auditore make out with Lance McClain was probably the weirdest pairing he had ever seen with his own two eyes. That had his girlfriend written all over it, but Derek would take it.

Grinning, he turned to his partner so they could go and get their prize—if memory served, best crack pairing was one ‘get out of trouble free’ card for breaking a dorm rule—and the smile promptly fell off his face when he found him gone. Turning, he tried to locate him in the remaining crowd, but he couldn’t catch sight of him anywhere.

Isaac, still standing by the door with the brunette, gave him a helpless shrug, which meant he’d been distracted by Boyd and hadn’t been paying attention.

“Shit,” Derek muttered, and not only for losing his date. He was pretty sure the guy was a freshman, and while Derek hadn’t seen him drink anything alcoholic, it looked like he’d left alone and that would end badly if he got hurt, _especially_  since Derek had no idea who he was.

He motioned for Boyd to finish up without going to collect his prize—it meant nothing to him anyway, he was an RA, every broken rule was a ‘get out of trouble free’ card.

Rushing towards the door, he pushed through it and hurried down the corridor, exiting at the end and looking around. The campus was quiet and abandoned at this hour, most people out partying elsewhere and not in the library’s basement like their dorm was. He moved further out into the open courtyard, spinning in a circle and trying to catch sight of the other’s white costume, but he saw nothing.

There was a couple wearing matching domino costumes arguing angrily while heading down towards one set of dorms, and a young guy walking towards another set of dorms wearing jeans, a hoodie and carrying a backpack, but otherwise, the place was empty.

No sign of his _Voltron_  friend.

“You see him?” Isaac asked, coming up beside him and looking around.

“No,” he muttered. “Shit. I think he was a freshman.”

“That’s okay, you can just make sure he made it back when you do your head count later.”

It was something they’d warned everyone in their dorm they were doing after the party ended to make sure they’d all gotten home safely. People with plans to stay out all night had to let them know in advance, and everyone else was meant to be in their rooms when the RAs did their rounds at one.

“What if he isn’t from my dorm, though?” Derek knew there were only about twenty people extra at the party, but that didn’t mean the other sixty were definitely from their dorm. “Shit.”

“Don’t worry.” Isaac slapped his back. “Just check with Registrations in the morning and they can call his emergency contact.”

“I didn’t get his name.”

“What?” Isaac stared at him. “Dude, you guys were getting pretty freakin’ close, how did you not get his name?”

“He wouldn’t give it to me.” Raking a hand through his hair, he let out a sigh and tried not to panic. It was fine, the guy had been sober as far as Derek could tell, and he’d obviously snuck out on his own and not been dragged away kicking and screaming. He was probably fine.

Derek hoped.

“Good kisser, though,” he commented, turning to head back into the building.

“Yeah?” Isaac grinned and thumped him lightly in the chest. “Awesome. Glad you were having a good time.”

“Noticed you were, too,” Derek pulled his hood down and unbuttoned the front of his jacket. He’d been roasting while dancing with his partner, but hadn’t wanted to leave him. Now that the night was done, he was looking forward to getting out of his costume.

“Yeah. Sophomore. Her name is Allison. I even got her number.” Isaac pulled his phone out, as if to prove to Derek he’d scored. Derek believed him so he didn’t bother double-checking, the two of them heading back into the hall in time to hear the tail-end of Boyd’s instructions on getting home safely.

There were a few drunk people, but most of them had sober friends with them, and Derek watched everyone file out, making a mental note of the ones he recognized from their dorm. He didn’t know everyone by name, but he was pretty good with faces, so he would remember who he’d seen leaving and would have to make sure they were in their rooms when he and Boyd made their rounds in the next half hour.

Once the hall was empty save for the RAs and a few senior friends, they tidied up as much as they could before locking the place up, to be finished in the morning. They all parted ways outside, Isaac heading towards the dorms near the back of campus with his new friend while Derek and Boyd headed for their own near the front. Boyd had one arm wrapped around Erica, and the three of them chatted comfortably while they walked.

They’d been friends since first year university, along with Isaac, and all four of them had lucked out in becoming Resident Advisors in their third years. They’d originally all been in different dorms in third year during their RA positions, but had lucked out this year. He and Boyd were together, and Isaac and Erica were together. Erica tended to be at his dorm with Boyd more often than not, but they were all in the same set of dorms, so it wasn’t a long walk between the two. If anyone in their dorm needed their RAs, they could call and Erica would be there in under two minutes. Isaac would take longer, since it looked like he was heading towards a different set of dorms, but still under ten minutes if he was needed.

Boyd occasionally hung out in her room with her, but they were closer to the road so Erica was in theirs for the most part.

They reached their dorm within ten minutes, some of the partiers still up and hanging out in the common room. He and Boyd had to cut that short, because it was after quiet hours, and they waited for everyone to head back to their rooms before going to their own.

Boyd was on the first floor, and Derek was on the fourth—the top floor. He called that he would meet Boyd in the middle, meaning their rounds, and then headed up the six flights of stairs to the fourth floor. He changed out of his costume quickly before he roasted to death, and yanked on some sweats and a wifebeater, grabbing a folder with the dorm registry off his desk and heading out to the first door on his floor.

He knocked his way down the corridor, marking off the people who answered, and the ones who didn’t. By the end of the fourth floor, only one door hadn’t opened, but he checked the notes he’d made about people having other plans and realized that person had already said they would be out for the night, so everyone on the fourth floor was accounted for.

He went down to the third and did the whole thing again, people opening their doors sleepily or kind of drunk. When he reached the last door, he had everyone accounted for again, and went to the second floor. Boyd was almost halfway, meaning he’d started later because Erica had likely distracted him, so Derek started at the opposite end of the corridor.

The last door he knocked on before meeting Boyd in the middle took a while to open. Eventually, it did, and Derek smiled at the guy on the other side.

He looked wide awake, and extremely nervous, like he thought he’d done something wrong and was about to be reprimanded by an RA.

“Hey. Are you—” He looked down at his clipboard and then stared at the name. How the fuck was he supposed to pronounce that? “Uh, the resident of this room?”

“Mieczyslaw,” he said, voice a little subdued. “Or Stiles. And yeah, this is my room.”

“Just checking everyone made it back from the party safely.”

“I didn’t go,” the other said quickly. “I don’t—it’s not my thing. I was here. All night. Didn’t go out.”

Derek gave him a weird look, but nodded slowly. “Okay, well, I’m glad you’re safe all the same. Have a good night.”

The guy shut his door quickly and Derek frowned when he heard the lock _and_  the chainlink engage. That was quite possibly the weirdest reaction he’d received all night, but he didn’t dwell on it and turned to Boyd, who’d finished up his side.

They were missing one person from the first floor, but when they went back down to Boyd’s room so they could look up the girl’s number, she stumbled in with her boyfriend, apologizing for being late, though it was clear why.

She was practically _carrying_  her boyfriend, and Boyd grabbed the guy from her so that she didn’t get crushed under his weight. She apologized again for being late, but Derek and Boyd assured her they were just glad she was safe.

They helped her get her boyfriend to her room—Boyd confirmed he recognized the guy as being around her a lot, so they weren’t inadvertently facilitating a non-consensual, inebriated act—and then bid her good night.

Boyd and Erica waved to Derek from the bedroom door and Derek raised one hand in farewell, heading for the stairs and climbing them to the fourth floor once more.

He made quick work of brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed, then headed back to his room and stripped to his boxers. He was still overheated from the heavy costume, so he slept on top of his covers, letting the cool air wash over him, and closed his eyes.

His mind wandered back to his mystery partner and he licked his lips, as if he could still taste the sugar on them from their kiss. He really hoped he saw the guy again, because he _really_  wanted to get to know him.

Someone who kissed _that_  well was definitely worth getting to know.

* * *

“I don’t know,” Derek insisted for what felt like the millionth time that day, poking at his dinner and questioning its nutritional value. It looked like it wasn’t even fully dead yet. He probably shouldn’t have gone for the meat today, mystery meat was never a good idea. He had some ramen noodles in his room, he’d probably just eat that later and save himself the stomach ache he had coming.

“You have to know _something_ ,” Erica insisted, practically sitting in Boyd’s lap while drinking a smoothie. “You guys were inches apart, you had to have seen _some_  part of the guy’s face.”

“I told you, he had a visor.” Derek held up one hand, pressing it horizontally against the tip of his nose. “I literally saw from here down, and not even his cheeks, really, because of the way the helmet was built. Just his lips. Everything else was covered. He even had _gloves_  on. He was probably hotter in that hall than I was.”

“Well, what did you do that made him run off on you like that?” Isaac asked absently, slouched in his seat and texting. He was apparently doing really well with that brunette, Allison, and Derek was almost jealous Isaac had gotten a date out of the party and he’d gotten a mystery man who kissed like nobody’s business.

“Maybe Derek sucks at kissing,” Erica teased with a grin.

Boyd smiled into his drink while he took a sip and Derek glared at both him and his girlfriend.

“Fuck you.”

“Aw, come on, babe. Gimme a kiss. Let’s test this out.” Erica leaned forward, mostly keeping her balance because she had one arm wrapped around Boyd’s neck, and started making kissy motions at him like a bitch.

Derek just picked up the mystery meat and tried to shove it in her face. She recoiled quickly, Derek getting to his feet to chase after her, and she screamed, batting at him with her smoothie hand and turning her face into Boyd’s neck.

A few people were staring, but the four of them didn’t care. They’d been friends for way too long to not be used to the stares. They had a good, comfortable relationship and Derek had always heard that lifelong friends were made in university. Four years in, and he felt inclined to believe whoever had said that was right. He loved these three idiots, and it would be weird once they went their separate ways when they graduated.

He, Boyd and Erica were staying in the same state, so they were hoping to get places close together, but Isaac was leaving to move on to the next stage of his education. It would be weird not being able to see the three of them every day, but he figured he, Boyd and Erica would make time for each other, and they’d have to visit Isaac whenever time permitted.

The easiest to keep in touch with would definitely be Boyd and Erica though, considering they were most likely going to be together. Derek and Isaac had already discussed the fact that Boyd and Erica were probably going to get married before they hit twenty-five. They’d been together since October of first year, and still going strong. They were definitely going to get hitched as soon as possible.

“Maybe he was underage,” Isaac muttered, still looking at his phone, Derek and Erica having returned to their seats and the mystery meat back on his plate. “And he didn’t want Derek to get in trouble.”

“He didn’t _seem_  underage,” Derek insisted with a frown, sighing and leaning back in his seat. “I wish he’d just told me his name. I had fun with him, would’ve been nice to hang out with someone _other_  than you assholes for a change.”

“Can’t you do it later?” someone hissed worriedly from behind him. “They’re eating, come on. Just knock on his door later!”

“Derek?”

He turned and saw one of the freshmen from his dorm standing behind him. There was another guy with him, that Stiles guy from the other night, but he resolutely wouldn’t look at them and was gripping the strap on his messenger bag with both hands, looking uncomfortable.

“What’s up?” Derek asked.

“Sorry, I’m Scott.” The guy held a hand out awkwardly and Erica smirked at his formality. Derek tried to suppress a smile but shook it anyway.

“Nice to meet you, Scott. You live on third, right?”

“Yeah, three-oh-eight. Um, my girlfriend is coming in from out of town, and I heard we had to let our RA know when someone visits from outside the dorms. She’s coming by on Friday and leaving on Monday afternoon. Is that okay?”

“Do you have a roommate or are you in a single unit?”

“Single.”

Derek nodded. “That’s fine, then. Just make sure you don’t let her wander around alone and that you don’t bug your neighbours.”

“Thanks.” Scott grinned. “Thanks a lot. I’ll do that.”

He turned and slapped his friend in the shoulder excitedly, who was already quickly striding away, still gripping his strap with both hands.

Derek frowned after them. “That guy’s a little weird.”

“He seemed fine to me,” Boyd commented.

“No, not Scott, the other guy. Stiles, I think he said his name was.” He looked back at Boyd. “He was acting all squirrelly the other night when we did our rounds, and he was all weird and nervous just now.”

“Maybe he’s a serial killer and you’re onto him,” Erica teased, leaning heavily into Boyd. She’d probably be back in his lap again relatively soon.

Derek rolled his eyes and shifted when his phone buzzed, pulling it from his pocket. He told the others he’d see them later and stood with his dishes, answering the call while he headed for the tray return to drop it off.

“Hey Laura.”

_“Hey loser, how’s prison?”_

“Food could be better, but they keep us warm at night. Brutus is a great roommate,” he said with a smile.

_“You’re such a freak, Derek. Things going okay? Classes are good?”_

“Everything’s fine, Laura. I’m not failing, otherwise mom would be on my ass.” He dropped off his tray and headed for the exit, pushing through the door and starting down the stairs to head back towards the dorm. He shoved his free hand in his pocket while the two of them chatted about how things were going.

Laura had graduated two years ago and was currently in Med School, so he didn’t see her much. Or talk to her much, actually. He didn’t call her because he never knew when she was taking a break and catching up on her sleep, but he liked hearing from her and she knew that, so she called him whenever she had a spare minute.

Derek called Cora whenever he damn well pleased, because he knew his younger sister was probably partying her ass off over in Florida and likely not even going to class. He had to play the big brother role and make sure she didn’t fail all her courses because she was too busy being a social butterfly. She’d only been at school for two months and she’d already had four different boyfriends.

He was pretty sure she was going to end the school year having dated every single guy in her year.

_“Mom’s making plans for Christmas, so she’ll probably call you about that later. Do you have your exam schedule yet?”_

“No, it’s only November fourth, Laura, don’t talk about exams.”

She just hummed and went silent for a little bit. Derek took a minute to realize why and he let out a sigh, sitting down on one of the benches that led back towards the dorms and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Dad’s birthday’s coming up,” he said.

_“Cora and I just—we wanted to know if you wanted to do something. If you wanted to sign a card or anything. Cora’s going to visit him for the weekend, and I’m sending him a package. No pressure, Derek, we just didn’t want you to feel excluded.”_

“Why, because my dad disowned me and I’m somehow still supposed to give a shit about him?”

_“It’s up to you, Derek. No judgement from us, you know that.”_

He dug his nails into the back of his neck, trying to think about it, but now wasn’t a good time. He’d forgotten about this and he didn’t have the brain capacity to think logically so he just muttered that he’d let her know and she told him it was fine either way.

They chatted for a bit longer, Laura obviously trying to get his mind off things, and then hung up. He sighed again, still sitting on the bench when Boyd came by, heading back to the dorm. He stopped in front of him, hands in his pockets.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Derek rubbed his face with both hands. “My dad’s birthday’s coming up.”

“Oh.”

Boyd didn’t say anything further, but he didn’t leave, either. He just waited until Derek got to his feet and the two of them headed back for their dorm together. They parted on the first floor, Derek waving in parting and heading for the stairs while Boyd went towards his room. They both had homework, and while they usually always convened in Derek’s room for it, he was positive it wouldn’t take long for Erica to be by to drag them out somewhere, so it was best to just get a head start on his work now.

When he made it back to his room, he made note of Scott McCall’s girlfriend coming by beside his room number on his dorm sheet, and then got started on his homework.

He couldn’t concentrate on it, his mind distracted by both his mystery man and his dad’s birthday.

It was almost a relief when Erica showed up half an hour later to drag them out to go paintballing.

* * *

Stiles Stilinski had an oral fixation. He knew he did, it was a problem he’d had since he was a child and kept shoving random things into his mouth, despite his parents freaking out every time and telling him that Legos and batteries and _phones_  did _not_  go into one’s mouth.

He couldn’t help it, he just liked chewing on things, which was why he was currently sitting in the common room on the third floor, his homework open in front of him, and the end of his pen in his mouth while he chewed absently on it, watching his RA Derek Hale reprimand two morons who’d put butter in the common microwave and set it on fire.

Because the foil had still been on it.

Technically speaking, Derek wasn’t _his_  RA, Vernon Boyd was. They were split up between the four flours, with the third and fourth being Derek’s, and the first and second being Vernon’s. Though Vernon didn’t like being called by his first name, so everyone called him Boyd. Stiles got that, he didn’t like it when people called him Mieczyslaw, not that anyone had ever succeeded.

Stiles was only on the third floor right now because of Scott. He and Scott had lucked out, getting into the same dorm as was their request on their applications for residency, but they’d also asked to either be roommates or neighbours. They hadn’t gotten either, but being in the same dorm was good enough. Stiles only had to climb two flights of stairs to get to Scott’s room, so all in all, not a bad deal.

And thank _God_  neither of them had roommates. He’d have been murdered within the first week if he did, which was why he’d wanted to room with Scott. Scott was used to him, and he was used to Scott. That tended to happen when meeting at the tender age of three because of their mothers.

Honestly, Stiles had only come to this university because he and Scott were extremely dependent of each other. He’d gotten accepted into much better universities, some even with scholarships, but his dad had insisted he do what he felt he needed to do. This wasn’t a bad school, and he’d gotten a scholarship, _and_  it was where Scott was going. So he’d agreed to follow along, hoping he wouldn’t regret it.

So far so good, though a huge downside was that Jackson fucking Whittemore was also going here. Different set of dorms across campus, thank God, but Stiles still bumped into him every now and then because they had the same English class and he _hated_  it.

Though he loved his dorm. He really did. Especially the third and fourth floors of the dorm. Where Derek was. Because he loved Derek.

He loved his big, muscled arms, and his broad shoulders, and his sexy as all fuck stubble. God, and his _mouth_. Stiles never wanted to stop kissing that mouth, he felt like he was addicted to it, and even now, watching Derek continue to yell at the two pyromaniac morons, his eyes were zeroed in on those lips. He wanted to suck on the bottom one so bad.

God he wanted to kiss him again.

“Stiles?”

He started, shifting his gaze away from Derek and looked at Scott, who was giving him a weird look.

“What?” he insisted. “Come on, it’s funny watching someone _other_  than me get in trouble.” He motioned the pair with his pen and grinned. “It’s not often I’m not the one being yelled at.”

“True,” Scott agreed, turning around to watch as well.

Stiles let out a slow breath. He’d gotten good at throwing Scott off, but he attributed it mostly to Scott being a little dense. He loved his friend, bless him, but he wasn’t exactly the brightest crayon in the box.

The two of them kept watching while Derek finished up shouting and sent the two idiots packing. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and turned to the destroyed microwave, likely trying to figure out what to do about it. It was a charred mess, but thankfully the morons had realized it was on fire before the alarm had even gone off and opened the microwave. They’d then proceeded to blow at the fire, like complete fucking idiots.

Stiles had been the one to stand up and shove them aside before slamming the microwave door shut to deprive the fire of oxygen and it went out before Derek had been brought in by another student. Stiles had ensured he was back at the table before Derek arrived, because he _definitely_  didn’t need to be close to him again.

He still had dreams about those God damn muscles.

No, it was safer to lust from afar, which was what he was doing. So long as he stayed away from him, Derek would never know Stiles was the guy from the Halloween party.

When Scott turned back to face him, Stiles quickly shifted his gaze back down to his homework, chewing on the end of his pen again before he started writing once more. His handwriting was atrocious, he hoped he could read it later when he had to type all this shit up. It occurred to him he could probably just bring his laptop up to do his homework, but he had a good setup in his room and he didn’t want to have to crawl under his desk to unplug his computer and bring the cord upstairs. It was easier this way.

He only got another few sentences out before Scott started talking about Kira’s visit. Stiles didn’t mind, because he liked Kira Yukimura a great deal, and looking up at Scott meant he could see Derek over his shoulder, and watch those muscles work while he unplugged the microwave and carried it out of the common room with a sour look on his face.

It took a conscious effort not to watch him walk past through the floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the corridor, but he managed to keep his eyes on Scott. He was sure Derek would be back before the night was through, anyway.

“Hey, so what did you end up doing on Halloween, anyway?” Scott asked after he’d finished obsessing about Kira’s impending visit.

“Hm?” Stiles asked, chewing on his pen again. He pulled it out of his mouth and looked back down at his homework, shrugging slightly. “Nothing. You know, just hung out in my room, watched some movies on my computer.”

“What’s your deal with Halloween, anyway?” Scott asked, giving up all pretense that he was going to get any homework done. “You never want to go out anymore. You were all over Halloween when we were younger, and then when you hit fifteen you just decided you hated it.”

Stiles loved Halloween. He fucking _loved_  being able to dress up, go out, be _himself_.

But Scott didn’t know that. And he wasn’t about to tell him now.

So Stiles just shrugged again. “I don’t know, it’s just not my thing. We’re too old to dress up and get candy, dude.”

“You’re never too old to do either of those things. It’s fun. Come on, next year, you should go out with me. We can go to a party, find you a girlfriend.” Scott nudged him and Stiles offered him a tight smile.

“I’m happy being single, Scott. Don’t need a girlfriend right now.” _Or ever,_ he added silently, focussing back on his homework.

“You’re just worried no one can ever stand you,” Scott teased. “Don’t worry, by the end of the year, I promise you’ll have a girlfriend.”

“Seriously, I’m fine,” Stiles insisted, trying to focus on what he was doing instead of Scott’s words. “Come on, dude, this is due in two days and I wanna get it done.”

Scott sighed, like Stiles was a huge wet blanket, but obediently shut his trap and went back to work. They were both silent for a long while, working on their individual assignments, and Stiles glanced up with his eyes when he saw Derek wander back into the common room carrying a new microwave. He’d probably had to get a new one from the common block and based on the look on his face, it had probably cost the dorm something. Maybe they’d all just lost their shower privileges for the month.

That would suck, he sure hoped not.

Derek wandered back out once the new microwave was set up and Stiles _did_  watch him this time, but only because Scott was distracted.

Derek Hale was a fucking gorgeous specimen, and he was _super_  nice. Stiles couldn’t believe he’d managed to, not only touch him, but _make out_ with him. Derek was an amazing kisser, and having his hands on him, God, Stiles would do anything to get that again.

Except he couldn’t get that again. Ever. Because it would mean telling Derek who he was, and he was definitely _not_  going to be doing that, thank you very much.

“I’m hungry,” Scott informed him a few minutes later. “Wanna make a McDonald’s run?”

“Sure.” Stiles shut his book and gathered all his things. “Let me drop this off and I’ll meet you in the entrance, okay?”

“Sure.”

Stiles left the common room, Scott heading for his room down the corridor while Stiles went for the stairs. He quickly dropped his things off in his room and patted his pockets for his wallet and keys. There was a twenty-four hours McDonald’s on the far end of campus, and though it was almost eleven at night, it wasn’t a far walk and the majority of the way was brightly lit.

He went down the stairs two at a time, pushing through the door at the end and walking into the entrance, leaning back against the wall to wait on Scott. The first floor common room was right by the entrance, so he could see a bunch of people playing a video game off a console someone had hooked up. They were screaming and cheering, and he knew that they would have to call it a night at eleven, since quiet hours came into effect.

“–foil in a fucking _microwave_?” a voice demanded angrily and Stiles stiffened.

“They’re freshmen, Derek, they didn’t know any better.”

“I wasn’t that stupid at eighteen, they shouldn’t be, either!” Derek insisted, clearly annoyed while he and Boyd walked past him and headed out of the building. “What kind of eighteen year old doesn’t know that tinfoil can’t—”

The door shut behind them and Stiles watched the two RAs head out together, probably going to the common block to get some snacks, since there was a twenty-four hour store in there. He liked to hope that both he and Scott would be RAs when they were in their third or fourth years. It looked like it was kind of fun, and it would be interesting to meet so many new people. Stiles knew that it was hard work and the RAs had to be responsible, but he felt like they’d do a good job. He’d already kind of brought it up with Boyd, mostly because he wanted to get a feel for what it would be like.

“Ready to go?”

“Jesus shit!” Stiles whipped around, punching Scott hard in the arm. “Dude. Warn a guy.”

Scott just rubbed at his injury, pouting and giving Stiles his best puppy dog eyes. Stiles ignored him and just headed for the door, heart slamming in his chest at the scare. He could still see Derek and Boyd walking ahead of them and stared at Derek’s back up until they turned a corner and he was finally out of sight.

Stiles was dumb. He was so, so dumb. He shouldn’t have made out with Derek.

Now he couldn’t stop thinking about him.

* * *

“What the fuck are you doing?” Derek demanded, ripping down the poster Isaac had just finished taping up on the wall by his bedroom door.

“Just trying to help out a friend,” Isaac insisted, snatching the page back from Derek and sticking it to the wall once more.

“You’re a _terrible_  friend,” Derek snarled, ripping it off again and holding it out of Isaac’s reach. The other man just shrugged and pulled a fresh sheet from his messenger bag, sticking it to the wall where the previous one had just been.

“How many of those do you _have_?!” Derek demanded, trying to go for his bag, but Isaac danced out of reach.

“Enough of them. Come _on_ , Derek, you’ve been moaning about this amazing kisser dude for like, two weeks. I’m just trying to help you find him.”

“This is not helping!” Derek insisted, waving the sheet of paper at Isaac angrily. He shouldn’t have bothered, because Isaac just snatched it right out of his hand and stuck it to the wall a few doors down.

Derek hadn’t noticed the posters until he was on his floor, because Isaac hadn’t put any in the stairwell. But if Isaac was on the fourth floor with his stack almost depleted, Derek was willing to bet every damn floor was covered in the stupid posters.

He turned to scowl at the closest one, annoyed, but didn’t bother ripping it down. Isaac would just stick another one up. Fuck, knowing Isaac, he might make a damn T-shirt and walk around in it.

It was a missing person’s poster with a huge picture of Lance from _Voltron_  with the caption “Have you seen me?” above it. Beneath the picture was a small paragraph.

_Have you seen me? Ezio Auditore (Derek Hale) is desperately searching for his mystery man from the Halloween party in the hall at the library on October 31st. If you are this man, or you know this man, please gift-wrap yourself (or him) and deposit yourself (or him) in front of room 407 for Ezio Auditore (Derek Hale). His birthday is coming up and he deserves a present._

It wasn’t funny. Not even a little bit. But it wasn’t a lie, either. Derek had literally been thinking about his mystery man for _days_  and it was starting to drive him a little crazy. A part of him was terrified maybe the guy hadn’t made it home and was lying dead in a ditch somewhere, but another calmer part of him couldn’t figure out why he’d been so into Derek during the party, and had disappeared without a trace afterwards.

 _Was_  Derek a bad kisser? Now he was actually a little worried about it. But if he’d been so terrible, why had the guy been kissing him so much while they danced? Or did Derek just remember the evening wrong? Maybe the guy hadn’t wanted to kiss him after the first time and Derek just kept going for it.

Sighing and raking a hand through his hair, he ignored Isaac while the idiot continued down the corridor with the posters and just walked into his room. He flipped the sign on his door from “Away” to “In House,” and then slammed the door behind him. He’d take them all down once Isaac was gone, there was no point trying to get rid of them while he was still in the building.

He checked his phone while falling into his desk chair, seeing a new email from his mom about Christmas, but he still didn’t have an answer for her. She wanted to know when his last exam was, but he was still unsure. He emailed her back and told her just to book his ticket for the twenty-third, since the twenty-second was the last day exams were scheduled for. If he ended up finishing before then, oh well, he could hang around and wait.

He was a little sad to realize it would just be him and his mother this year. Cora and Laura alternated Christmas break between their divorced parents, and they were going to see his dad this year. He was sad to be missing out on time with them, but at least he would have some quality time with his mother, which was the important thing.

He loved his mother, she was amazing, and strong, and so supportive. He honestly didn’t know what he would do without her, and was so glad she was on his side.

Glancing up when someone knocked on his door, he tossed his phone aside and went to answer it, immediately tensing at the sobbing girl he found on the other side. The only downside to being an RA was that he and Boyd often had people at their doors crying. It had been a huge shock the year before when the first girl had appeared, but he was a bit more used to it this year.

Still, he hated seeing girls cry.

He ushered her into the room and confirmed she was okay with him shutting his door before doing so. Then, he sat her down in the spare chair he had and grabbed her a bottle of water from his mini-fridge.

Sitting across from her with his elbows on his thighs, he listened to her talk through her tears, half-expecting it to be about boyfriend problems, but was surprised to find out she was here because she was failing most of her classes and was scared of being kicked out.

Derek got as much information from her as he could related to her faculty and her courses, and then asked what room she was in. Once he’d calmed her down, he said he’d start looking into finding her a tutor because he knew there were a lot of Science students in their dorm, and he promised he would help her with her calculus, since he’d taken that himself in his second year, being in Engineering.

They set up a schedule for him to help her with her calculus, and she looked better when she left his room, Derek letting out a slow breath and relieved he hadn’t fucked up. It was really hard sometimes, doing what he did, but he loved it, too. He had a lot of interesting conversations with people, and while he wasn’t really the chattiest person in the world, he liked meeting new people.

Booting up his laptop, he went through all people in their dorm who were in the Science faculty, writing their names down in a word program. He went through all of their listed courses, having access to that since he was an RA, and he frowned in confusion at one of the freshmen.

It was that Stiles guy from the second floor. He was in the faculty of Science, as well, and he was in his first year of university, it said so on the screen beside his name and a smiling picture.

But he was taking second and third year courses.

The girl he’d been speaking to was a second year student, and she had two of the same classes as this guy, and was struggling with one of the classes Stiles was taking as a third year course. If this guy was still a freshman and taking those advanced courses, evidently he was smart enough to be taking them, which meant he would be the perfect tutor.

And he was only two doors down from the girl who was struggling with her classes.

“Huh.” Derek made note of his room number then stood to go and talk to him, shutting his bedroom door. He flipped the sign back over to “Away,” which had his cell number on the bottom in case of an emergency, and then headed for the stairs.

He, Boyd, Isaac and Erica had shared a lot of ideas for their final year of school as RAs. They had some things that worked and some things that didn’t in third year, and they’d worked hard to find a balance to ensure nothing would happen.

Last year, someone in Erica’s dorm had been close to suicide and had admitted Erica being in her room when she’d knocked on the door was the only reason she hadn’t gone through with it. This had really affected all of them when Erica had shared the story, and they never wanted anything like that to happen on their watch.

Derek had signs on his door that told everyone when he was in his room and when he wasn’t. He had his cell number listed on the “Away” sign so that anyone could call him if they needed to talk to him. He also had a white-board where people could leave him messages, as well as a small “suggestion box” beside his door so people could leave anonymous comments or recommendations on improving the lifestyle of the dorm.

It had been working well the past two months, and he felt like he and Boyd had a good group of kids. A majority of them were freshmen, but there were a fair few sophomores, as well. Not very many juniors, and aside from him and Boyd, there was only one other senior in the building. By junior year, most people tended to move off campus with friends, but occasionally there were the stragglers who liked the dorm life. He and his friends enjoyed it a great deal, which was why they’d stuck around as RAs after second year. Apparently the university was struggling with people wanting to take on those positions, because it was like having a full time job while also going to school, but Derek didn’t mind. TAs did the same thing, and it was really fulfilling knowing he was making a difference for people.

He was making a difference for that girl who’d shown up crying.

Reaching the second floor, he wandered down the corridor to Stiles’ room and heard music playing through the door. He knocked on it rather loudly, because he wasn’t sure he would be heard.

“It’s open,” someone called from inside.

Derek pushed open the door and stepped into the room. He was a little surprised at how messy it was, most people keeping their areas clean, but he could tell the guy worked better in chaos. His walls were covered with pages of formulas, diagrams and puns about the periodic table. One wall sported a massive collage of newspaper clippings and articles about some sheriff in a place called Beacon Hills. Derek would’ve found it weird if he didn’t notice a picture of Stiles and that same man in a frame on his desk.

It was probably his father.

“What’s up?” Stiles asked, pen in his mouth and eyes on a textbook, his computer blasting the music from his desk.

“You’re Stiles, right?”

It looked like he’d just electrocuted the guy because his head shot up and he almost swallowed his pen, coughing and spitting it out before jerking to his feet, the textbook falling to the floor.

He hastily slapped his keyboard, the music cutting off instantly, and when he turned back to Derek, he looked terrified.

Derek had no idea what this guy’s problem was, he always acted like Derek was here to give him trouble. He remembered him when he’d first moved in, and he’d been loud and excitable, but otherwise normal. Now Derek had to wonder if he really _had_  murdered someone and was worried he was going to get found out.

“Stiles?” he repeated, wanting confirmation.

“Yeah,” he said, voice cautious. “I’m Stiles. That’s me.”

“You’re in Sciences, right?”

Stiles seemed to relax slightly at that, shoulders sagging and expression shifting to one of relief. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Do you have a second to talk? I need your help with something.”

Derek started to step further into the room but Stiles rushed forward and slammed his hand hard against his closet door, shutting it and moving closer to his bedroom door.

“I don’t, uh—people in my space makes me uncomfortable. Can we talk somewhere else?”

“Sure,” Derek said slowly, wondering if his closet was where the dead body was.

He tried not to dwell on it and figured maybe Stiles had bitten off more than he could chew with his courses. Maybe the tutoring wasn’t a good idea, but he figured he’d ask and then find someone else if he had to. He motioned down the corridor and Stiles followed him, locking his door firmly behind him. They walked into the common room, which was empty at this hour of the day, and Derek sat on the couch, motioning the spot beside him.

Stiles took one of the armchairs instead, crossing his arms and looking defensive.

“What’s up? I have homework, so...”

Derek really didn’t get what this guy’s problem was. One of his legs was jerking up and down nervously, and he was staring down at the coffee table like he couldn’t stand to look at Derek.

“There’s a girl on your floor, Hayden. She’s in the same faculty as you, taking two of the same classes. She’s been really struggling with her courses, and isn’t understanding a lot of the work being assigned. I noticed you seem to be in classes ahead of your year, so I was wondering how you’d feel about tutoring.”

“Tutoring?” Stiles asked, glancing at him, somewhat surprised. “Is that a thing I can do? I don’t need, like... a qualification or anything?”

Derek laughed, shaking his head. “No, you don’t need a qualification. It’s not really formal tutoring in the dorms when you’re helping out someone in the same class as you. She’s just having trouble with chemistry and physics, and is taking the second year class of bio-chem which I noticed you were in third year for. I know it’ll take time, tutoring someone else, and there’s no obligation at all, but I thought I would ask. I’m going to help her with her calculus, but I thought maybe you’d like to help a fellow classmate and dormmate out.”

Stiles looked like he didn’t know what to say to that, but eventually he licked his lips, eyes still on the table, and nodded. “Sure. Yeah, sure, I can do that. I help my buddy Scott all the time, so maybe we can set up some kind of study group together. If she’s cool with that.”

“You can ask her,” Derek said with a smile, happy he was able to solve this problem so easily. He’d been expecting Stiles to say no, he was a little squirrelly. “She’s in room two-twelve.”

“Oh,” he said, startled. “How come she didn’t go see Boyd?”

Finding that to be an odd thing to say, Derek answered, “Boyd’s in class right now. She probably couldn’t wait.”

“Right. Right, that makes sense.” He nodded, still not looking at Derek, then stood and clapped his hands together. “We done, then?”

“We’re done,” Derek confirmed slowly, confused.

“Cool, cool. Okay, I’m uh—” He clicked his tongue and motioned the door with both pointer fingers. “I’ll go talk to her. No time like the present. Good talk, nice chat, later.”

Stiles practically ran from the room and Derek had no idea what that guy’s problem was. Maybe he was scared of him. Derek knew he was kind of imposing, he was pretty tall and very broad, and he had resting bitch face, but he’d never seen anyone react to him as negatively as Stiles did.

Getting back to his feet, he left the common room, but saw Stiles knocking on Hayden’s door, smiling brightly at her and introducing himself. It was completely different from how he’d been two seconds ago.

Going back to his room and flipping his sign over, Derek grabbed his phone off the desk and opened the group chat he had with Boyd, Erica and Isaac. Normally he’d just text Boyd, but the four of them always ended up talking about the same things with each other so it was easier to just do everything in the group chat.

 **[Derek]**  
hey you know that dude in 208?  
 **[Derek]**  
stiles or whatever?

 **[Isaac]**  
whos stiles? new lover? forget about ur lancey boy already? ;)

 **[Boyd]**  
Sure, I know him  
 **[Boyd]**  
Great kid, real smart  
 **[Boyd]**  
Why?

 **[Isaac]**  
oooooooooo dereks totally movin on!  
 **[Isaac]**  
fare thee well lance   
**[Isaac]**  
whos stiles? is he cute?

Derek ignored Isaac’s stupidity, assuming he was bored in class, and just focussed on answering Boyd.

 **[Derek]**  
is he, you know, OKAY?   
**[Derek]**  
he keeps acting weird whenever i’m around  
 **[Derek]**  
kinda worried he murdered someone tbh

 **[Boyd]**  
????

 **[Isaac]**  
osnap! into the serial killers!  
 **[Isaac]**  
hot derek!

 **[Boyd]**  
He’s totally fine?  
 **[Boyd]**  
I’ve never had a problem with him.  
 **[Boyd]**  
He’s a good kid, wants to be an RA.  
 **[Boyd]**  
We chat about it every now and then.   
**[Boyd]**  
He carried his drunk neighbour back to the dorm a few days ago  
 **[Boyd]**  
Says they’ve never spoken, but he didn’t want to leave him passed out on a couch  
 **[Boyd]**  
Why?

Derek frowned, finding it weird the guy was so chill with Boyd, and acted like Derek was the Spanish Inquisition. Boyd was bigger than him, and much scarier, so how was he okay with Boyd and scared of Derek? It made no sense.

 **[Derek]**  
don’t worry about it  
 **[Derek]**  
i’ll see you later for dinner

 **[Boyd]**  
Okay. Talk later.

 **[Isaac]**  
BYEEEEEEEEEE DEEEEEEEEEEREEEEEEEEEEEEEEK

 **[Derek]**  
focus on your fucking class isaac!

* * *

Stiles hated the library. He hated it with every fibre of his being, because he didn’t find it as easy to study or do homework here the way Scott did. But, he was a good friend, and Scott was struggling to focus in his room, so he was in the library right now. He was trying to get a head start on one of his projects, but he kept getting distracted by everything because there was a lot of movement.

He did really well studying with other people. Actually, he found it easier to study with other people, but not in a library. There was _too_  much movement. A lot of back and forth. People coming and going, getting books and putting them back, the librarians moving around to collect and return books.

There was just too much going on, and it made his mind wander, so he was mostly just sitting there chewing on his pen with one fist against his cheek while Scott actually got work done. They were two very different people, it was a wonder they got along so well.

He felt like it wasn’t just the distractions around him that were making it hard to focus, though. His mind kept going back to all the posters he’d seen hung up around their dorm. He may have had a mini heart attack when he’d seen them, because at first he’d thought they were only on his floor, and that meant Derek _knew_  it was someone on the second floor, but thankfully he’d caught sight of them on Scott’s floor as well when he went up there to stop from freaking out.

Stiles didn’t like this. He wasn’t okay with this. He hated that there were posters asking about him all over the dorm. He’d had fun, it was one night, and then it was supposed to be _over_. It was usually always over after one night. He didn’t _want_  Derek looking for him, he wanted to be left alone.

Why couldn’t Derek just _leave him alone_? Why did he keep showing up? Stiles hadn’t seen him _ever_  for the first two months of dorm life outside their usual dorm meetings, and now he felt like he saw him _all the time_.

Sure, he was nice to look at, but every time he came within touching distance now, Stiles panicked that he would recognize him. He’d stopped oogling him from afar because he worried Derek would somehow magically sense his eyes on him and turn and realize _he_  was his mystery man and he did _not_  want to get found.

Thankfully the posters had been taken down, but it didn’t stop him from having massive anxiety about it.

Not to mention Scott had brought up the fact that Stiles liked _Voltron_ , and he’d had to insist very loudly to ensure everyone could hear that it was the _old_  version, with gremlin Pidge—even though it wasn’t, but Scott wouldn’t know the difference.

As long as Derek stopped looking for him. Stiles couldn’t be found.

He _couldn’t_.

“You gonna work, or chew that pen to death?” Scott asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“You know I can’t focus as much here,” Stiles said. He _could_  focus, it was just harder and lasted a shorter period of time than when he was in a room with a bunch of people. He was lucky that actually _helped_ , otherwise exams would be a fucking nightmare. He didn’t know why his brain was like this, but he managed somehow.

“You just need those things horses have,” Scott said with a small, teasing smile. “What are they called? Blinders?”

“You’d know more than me, Mr. Vet-man,” he insisted, shifting when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and smiled slightly, getting to his feet. “My Queen is summoning me.”

“Hm. Tell her I say hi,” Scott said, turning back to his work.

Stiles headed for the stairs so he could leave the library and have a chat outside. He didn’t want to bother anyone with his conversation, and he so rarely spoke to Lydia Martin these days that he didn’t want to miss out on this call.

“Hello my Queen,” he said into the phone while moving down the stairs. “How kind of you to follow up with your loyal subjects.”

 _“Still alive then, peasant? Must be doing something right to have escaped a beheading,”_  she said, a small smile in her tone. _“How are you? It’s been a while.”_

“It has,” he agreed, moving out of the library and walking a few steps so he could sit down on the stairs, letting out a groan. “I’m getting old, Lyds.”

_“We’re all getting old, it’s why we’re all in university. Kira said she was out there recently to see Scott. How was that?”_

“Wouldn’t know, I didn’t see her except to say hi when she showed up and bye when she left. You know how she and Scott are when they’re together.”

_“True. And how’s Jackson?”_

“I’m sure your boyfriend can keep you up to date on how he’s doing on his own.”

 _“Not my boyfriend,”_ she reminded him, tone a little curt.

Lydia and Jackson had been an on-again, off-again couple throughout all of high school. They weren’t really considered _together_  so much as they really liked having sex with one another. A complication when it came to Stiles and Lydia’s close friendship, because Jackson always felt threatened by him, thinking Stiles was trying to steal her away from him.

Oh the irony. Jackson was so stupid.

Really, he and Lydia were only even such good friends because they’d recognized each other’s intellect in grade six and had been determined to beat one another on every test they took for years. It wasn’t until grade nine that they realized their little rivalry was actually a budding friendship and the rest of high school was spent hanging out and doing ridiculously nerdy things together.

Like play chess, and join the debate club, and sign up for mathletes. Stiles missed Lydia, she was the only person he knew who was as smart as him. Realistically, they both probably could’ve graduated high school much sooner than the rest of their peers, but Lydia liked to play dumb sometimes because it made it easier to be with Jackson, and Stiles often went off on tangents in his papers and it set him back a ways.

All in all though, they were both smart, and they both knew it. Stiles really missed her, he felt like he should call her more.

_“Anything exciting happening on your side of the country? Better not have found any new girls to crush on in New York.”_

“Never. You’re the only one for me, Lydia.”

_“I better be.”_

He smiled a little, because he loved his relationship with her. She knew it was never going to be romantic, and Stiles didn’t think she’d ever want it to be. They were really good friends, and they both liked that dynamic, but she often spoke about him finding a girlfriend. He assumed it was because she wanted to ensure she approved.

Stiles didn’t think she’d approve of the last person he’d made out with. Not because he wasn’t amazingly attractive and _way_  out of Stiles’ league, but because it wasn’t a girl.

The two of them chatted for a little while, catching each other up on their various classes and vacations they had coming up. When Stiles checked the time, he realized it was getting late and he and Scott hadn’t eaten dinner yet. Bidding her farewell, he smiled when she admitted she missed him and said he missed her too, then hung up and sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

He really wished things could be different. He’d love to be able to talk to her about his latest outing, but he knew he couldn’t. That was never going to happen, and he had to accept that.

So, with another deep sigh, he got to his feet and turned around to head back inside so he could go and get Scott.

Maybe they could go off campus and grab a burger or something.

* * *

“Why are you here?” Derek asked with a sigh, because this definitely didn’t bode well.

“We can’t come keep you company?” Erica asked slyly, moving to the front of the room and leaning heavily into Boyd, turning to kiss him and then wrapping her arms around his middle. He had to support most of her weight with how she was pressing into him, but Boyd didn’t seem to mind.

Derek eyed her and Isaac suspiciously, since they weren’t technically supposed to be there. Every month they had a dorm meeting in the first floor common room. It was the largest of all the rooms specifically because of the requirement to have monthly meetings. They always had to remind everyone it was mandatory to attend, and only those enrolled in night classes had the ability to skip them. They only had two people out this time around for the November meeting, but one of them was that Scott kid who would probably get the cliffnotes from Stiles, and the other was Boyd’s neighbour, so it would be easy to fill him in.

The students were still slowly walking into the room, Derek watching them all file in. They were loud and rowdy, and looked like they were having a good time. Probably eager for the weekend to start, since it was after eight on a Friday. He and Boyd tried to keep the meetings short, but they were required so they didn’t have a choice.

When it looked like the whole dorm was there—truthfully, they didn’t call roll or anything so it was entirely likely some people just didn’t show up—the door was closed and Boyd started them off with Erica still attached to him.

Setting a great example. Derek gave her a look and she just grinned at him.

Boyd went through some reminders about the rules, because he and Derek had both caught a few people having showers together. It was fine if people wanted to get intimate and have sex, but not in the fucking communal shower. They had stalls, and the rule was one pair of feet per stall, _not_  two. Yes, shower sex was fun, but people had to be respectful to their dormmates.

Derek reminded them about the alcohol rule, since a majority of them were under twenty-one and they kept finding beer cans in the recycling bins on all the floors. It was great they were mindful of the environment and recycling, but they were still underage and needed to fucking _wait_  before drinking.

Once they’d finished up reminding them on various other rules—drugs were _still_  illegal, quiet hours, and so on—Boyd moved into the schedules for the coming holidays. There were a few dorm activities coming up for December, but they tried to keep them all winter-related because not everyone celebrated the same religious holidays and they wanted to be inclusive. They did a vote on what people wanted to do, and surprisingly someone offered up Secret Santa and a majority of the dorm was all for it.

“We’re trying to keep it less geared towards one specific religious holiday,” Boyd said uncomfortably.

“It’s not about religion, though,” the girl insisted, looking excited people were on board. “It’s just—getting to know people. If I get someone in the dorm I don’t know, I have to make friends with their friends to learn about them. It’ll help everyone get to know each other. It doesn’t have to be about religion, Secret Santa is about gift-giving. We can just call it Secret Gift-Giving if that makes people feel better.”

Boyd looked over at Derek, who shrugged. They asked for another vote, just to be sure, and more hands went up this time so they decided they could do that. He and Boyd would have to work on getting everyone names, but it would probably be fun.

They moved on to exams, speaking over the loud groans, and also about the rules for people staying behind. Not everyone went home over the winter break, and while Derek was leaving, Boyd was sticking around since it was tight for him to head back. They knew of only a handful of people staying behind so far, but mostly because people hadn’t spoken up about it much given December was still a week away. They reminded everyone that they had to let himself or Boyd know if they were sticking around, and then the meeting was done.

Before Derek could send them all off to their plans for the weekend, Isaac shot to his feet and practically hip-checked Derek aside, grinning broadly at the students.

“Hey guys! I’m Isaac, RA in Lunar dorm. This is Erica, also an RA.” Erica waved, still leaning heavily into Boyd. “I’m sure you’ve all seen us around, we’re here a lot hanging with our friends Boyd and Derek.” He grabbed for Derek then, wrapping an arm around him and yanking him into his side. “My buddy Derek. Good friend of mine. Great guy. Speaking of which, Derek is _such_  a great guy that he is _devastated_  to be single.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Derek muttered, knowing it was a bad idea to let Isaac and Erica stick around for the meeting.

“You see, he met someone. Someone _really_  special. I’m sure you all saw the posters around the dorm that Derek took down like a dick, my photoshop skills are dope, I know. Anyway, Derek here is a little smitten with his mystery man. Good kisser, apparently.”

Derek punched Isaac in the kidney and he doubled over, letting him go.

“What Isaac is trying to say,” Erica piped in before Derek could tell everyone to _get out_ , “is that Derek would very much like to go for coffee with his mystery man. Given the Halloween party was a dorm event, we’re going with the assumption that it’s someone in this dorm. Even if it’s not though, if you were the one who brought Lance from _Voltron_  to the Halloween party, please find it in your hearts to help this poor, sad, _single_  man find true love by introducing him to his mystery man.”

“Are you guys done?” Derek demanded, scowling at her and Isaac. She was grinning at him ferally and Isaac was still partly doubled over, both hands against his injured side.

“What do you know about him?” someone asked from the group at large.

Derek almost groaned, because he did _not_  need his love life on display, and he could tell some of the people in the crowd looked uncomfortable. They were probably homophobic, and now they knew Derek was bisexual, and would probably never talk to him again. Not that he’d been hiding it, considering the party, but everyone had been busy and likely hadn’t noticed.

“Nothing,” he said, sighing in defeat because some of the crowd looked _really_  interested. “Didn’t catch his name. All I know is he made his own costume.”

“Maybe the guy doesn’t want to be found,” Hayden said from the back of the room, shrugging. “I mean, you’ve made it pretty clear you’re looking for him. If he hasn’t come forward, he probably just had a fun night and wants to be left alone now.”

“But who wouldn’t want to date this?” Erica demanded, appearing beside him. One hand was in Derek’s hair and the other was at his face, squishing his cheeks together. “Look at him! He’s so adorable! And he’s _nice_. Seriously, mystery man is missing out.”

“If you like him so much, why don’t _you_  date him?” someone muttered from the back.

Derek was surprised to realize it was Stiles, slouched in his chair with his arms crossed and a sour look on his face. He was looking anywhere but at Derek, and it made him think maybe Stiles was homophobic. That probably explained why he’d been acting weird ever since the Halloween party. Maybe he’d found out that Derek had been making out with a guy, and was uncomfortable being around him.

“I’m taken, but thanks.” Erica winked at him, but Stiles still wasn’t looking at anyone at the front.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Derek said emphatically, pulling at Erica’s wrist to get her hand off his face, “that’s all for tonight, so you’re free to go. Have fun, be responsible, and enjoy your weekend.”

The door at the back opened and everyone began to file out, Stiles first out the door and heading for the stairs. Derek noticed Hayden call after him and chase him up the stairs, but he didn’t stop.

When the room was empty, Derek turned and punched Isaac hard in the arm.

“Ow! _Ow_ , Derek! Violence is not the answer!” he insisted, rubbing at his arm and inching away from him.

“What is wrong with you two?” he asked angrily. “My personal life is not open to discussion in front of the whole fucking dorm!”

“Derek, you’ve literally been obsessing about this guy since Halloween,” Erica insisted. “We’re just trying to help you find him.”

“Well, don’t! Maybe Hayden is right,” he insisted, motioning towards the door. “Maybe he doesn’t _want_  to be found!”

“Or maybe he doesn’t think you actually want to find him,” Isaac insisted. “Derek, you’re not exactly making it very obvious you’re infatuated. You’re mostly just daydreaming and bothering us about the guy. We’re just trying to get the word out that you _do_  like him.” Isaac shrugged, still rubbing his arm. “Who knows, with any luck, he’ll make contact.”

* * *

_STOP LOOKING FOR ME!_

Stiles stared down at the piece of paper, his hands folded together and pressed against his lips. He could feel his heart slamming against his chest, and stared hard at the words, trying to recognize his own handwriting in them.

He _did_  recognize it, because he knew it was him _writing_  it. He kind of wished he could ask Scott to write it out, but that would mean explaining why he was asking, and Stiles wasn’t ready to talk to him about it yet.

If ever.

Probably never, if he was honest. He was going to die alone and bring this secret with him to the grave.

He rubbed at his face, trying to calm himself down, because it was fine. It wasn’t a big deal. No one knew who he was.

Stiles had been so fucking scared when Derek had knocked on his door after seeing the posters. He’d been worried all night that someone, _anyone_ , would have _seen_  him. Would realize that _he_  was the Lance from _Voltron_  that Derek was looking for.

And to have Derek knock on his door an hour later, Stiles had legitimately almost thrown up, he was so scared. It had been such a relief for him to start talking about school, because it meant he didn’t recognize him, and thank _God_  for that. But then he’d started forward into his room, and Stiles’ costume was hanging in his closet and he’d been so scared Derek had seen it.

To avoid Scott finding it and wondering what the posters meant, Stiles had hidden the damn thing into the bottom of one of his dresser drawers. The helmet was harder to hide, but he just shoved it into the back of his closet and had thrown a bunch of sweaters on top of it. No one had any reason to go into the back of his closet.

He wished he could toss it out, but he was scared someone would see him walk out with it. He supposed he could do like he’d done the night of the party and shove it into his backpack, but if Scott or Jackson saw him with a backpack there would be problems. Stiles only ever used his messenger bag, his backpack was usually when he was going away somewhere, and he wouldn’t put it past Jackson to grab at his bag and rip it open to make fun of him.

If the helmet happened to be in there... shit. And it’d be just his fucking luck that he’d run into Jackson while trying to dispose of the evidence of Halloween.

Fuck, _what_  had Stiles been thinking?! He should’ve gone to a club like he’d done back home. He always used to go to a club the next town over, where he could be himself and not worry about anyone recognizing him. But he’d been dumb. So fucking dumb. He’d gone to a _dorm_  party, made out with one of the _RAs_ , and was now paying the price.

Why was Derek looking for him _anyway_?! They’d danced for like, an hour, tops, and had made out, and that was _it_! Stiles was nothing special, he was just a dude trying to get through school so he could go out in the world. He didn’t have time to worry about his RA trying to find him to get into his fucking pants.

Grabbing the note, Stiles stood and folded it up into quarters, leaving his room and locking the door. He headed for the stairs and was halfway to the third floor before chickening out and heading back down to the second, pacing in the stairwell and shaking out his hands.

If he told Derek to stop, would he actually listen? Or would he start trying to find him more aggressively? If Stiles went up there and put the note in his suggestion box, wouldn’t that just prove that the person he was looking for had been at the meeting?

Derek would know it was for _sure_  someone in the dorm. He would know it was someone at the meeting. He would slowly start being able to chip away at who it could be.

And what if he _saw_  Stiles put the note in his box? Maybe Stiles should wait until he was gone. Maybe he _was_  gone?

Stiles started up the stairs again, but stopped on the third floor, feeling nervous again. What if someone saw him? What if one of the other people on the fourth floor saw him put the note in there? And when Derek got it, he would ask around, and maybe someone would tell him it was Stiles.

This was stupid. This was dumb. He shouldn’t do anything, he should just leave it. Derek wasn’t _actively_  looking for him right now, it was all his friends. It was fine. If he just—he could just pretend it was nothing.

But he really, really, _really_  wanted his friends to stop. What if one of _them_  found Stiles? He needed all of them to just let this go, to stop trying to find him. Derek was a good guy, he was hot, he could have anyone he wanted, he was _fine_. He would find someone else, he wasn’t going to obsess over Stiles for long, it was just infatuation because it was recent. It didn’t even seem as though he _liked_  Stiles, so even if he found out he was his mystery man, he was unlikely to pursue it.

Stiles had made it to the fourth floor, but he was still pacing in the stairwell, unfolding and re-folding the note nervously. He couldn’t decide whether it was better to do this or not. He really felt like maybe it would all just blow over if he let it go. If he said something, it would prove he was in the building, and fuck this was so _stupid_ , why the _fuck_  had he made out with Derek?!

Because he liked him.

God dammit all to hell, he fucking _liked_  Derek. And Derek had been _interested_  in him, and had come over to talk to him, and had danced with him, and he got him a drink, and it was all so fucking perfect and Stiles was positive it was just him fantasizing the whole thing, but it was real and _fuck_!

He walked into the corridor, almost at Derek’s room and then turned around, cursing to himself and beginning to pace again. He couldn’t decide if this was a good idea or not, and he had _no one_ to ask. He was starting to feel panic rising in his chest, and he didn’t want to have a panic attack on the fourth floor, people would get Derek, and then he’d wonder why Stiles was even _on_  the fourth floor, and he’d see the note, and he’d know it was Stiles, and Jesus _Christ_  he had to get the fuck out of here.

He turned to hurry for the stairs and had just pushed open the door to the stairwell when he froze.

“Stiles?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!

“What’s up? I never see you on this floor.”

Shit! Fucking _shit_!

He turned around, feeling like he was seriously about to have a panic attack. His vision was fuzzy and his breathing was erratic, and Derek looked concerned, and he was coming closer, and fuck this was so bad, what was he thinking, God dammit!

“Boyd,” he managed to force out. “I was looking for Boyd.” Stiles reached up with one hand and scratched hard at his neck, digging his nails into the sensitive skin and trying to ground himself, calm himself down. He shoved his other hand with the note into his pocket and struggled to slow his breathing, taking a few steps back the closer Derek got, both of them in the stairwell now.

“I couldn’t—he wasn’t in his room, I thought—you guys are friends, so—but he’s not—it’s okay. I’m good. I can—we can talk later.” He turned to rush down the stairs but Derek grabbed his shoulder and Stiles twisted to violently slap his hand off.

“Whoa,” Derek insisted, taking a step back and holding both hands up in surrender. Stiles’ vision was swimming, Derek coming in and out of focus. “Are you okay?” His voice sounded like it was echoing. “You don’t seem okay. If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine, I can get Boyd, but I don’t want to leave you alone right now.”

All of Derek’s words seemed delayed, like his lips weren’t matching what he was saying. Stiles had to get out of here.

“I’m fine,” Stiles insisted, even though he was _definitely_  having a panic attack. And it was obvious. He could _not_  have a panic attack with Derek!

This was stupid. He shouldn’t have come up here.

“I’m fine. Leave me alone, I’m fine.” He turned and almost fell down the stairs but managed to grab the railing. His vision was swimming and he practically stumbled his way down to the third floor.

He fell against the door to get out into the corridor, using the wall to help him struggle his way quickly to Scott’s room. He could hear Derek following behind him, but he ignored that and just focussed on getting to Scott. His door was ajar, like it often was, and Stiles just slammed into his room, making his friend jump. He turned to lean against the door, shutting it in Derek’s face, and then slid to the ground, struggling to breathe.

Scott said his name behind him, but it sounded delayed and echoed and weird. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to calm his breathing, Scott right beside him and calling his name.

Fuck, he hadn’t had a panic attack in years. The last time he’d had one, he’d been twelve or thirteen, when he’d found out his dad was in the hospital and that was why Tara had picked him up from school.

“Stiles,” Scott insisted, sounding panicked.

Derek was knocking insistently on the door, asking what was wrong, and that was _not_  helping the situation. Stiles just needed to get himself back under control, but he couldn’t get his breathing to slow down, and everything was spinning, and his heart was beating _so fast_.

“I think he’s having a panic attack,” Derek called through the door. “You need to calm his breathing.”

“How?!” Scott demanded, grabbing Stiles’ shoulders and giving him a shake. “Stiles. Stiles, calm down!”

Once this passed, Stiles was going to slap Scott for being so stupid. Telling him to calm down was not going to fucking help him calm down. He felt like he was going to pass out with how fast he was breathing.

“Uh, think of calming things,” Derek said through the door. His voice was _so close_ and it was making things even _more stressful_.

“Go away,” Stiles insisted, struggling to get the words out. “Go away!”

“Stiles, he’s trying to help,” Scott insisted. “Just calm down. Think happy thoughts. Lacrosse, your dad, Lydia. Um, chemistry, dogs, you love dogs. Puppies!”

“It says here to hold your breath,” Derek said through the door, obviously reading something off his phone. “Holding your breath can help with a panic attack.”

How the fuck did Derek think he could hold his breath right now when he couldn’t even stop from breathing erratically?!

Stiles fisted the front of Scott’s shirt in one hand and rested his forehead against his chest, breathing hard and clenching his eyes shut. Scott wrapped him in a tight hug, continuing to list off things that he thought might calm him down.

His breathing was still coming hard and fast, but he forced himself to try and get it back under control. It wasn’t working, no matter how hard he tried, and he was positive he was going to hurt himself with how fast he was breathing when a new voice spoke.

_“Stiles. Stiles, listen to me. Listen to my voice. You’re having a panic attack, but it’s only temporary, understand? It’s going to pass. I need you to do something for me, okay? I need you to listen to me. Give me the capital of California.”_

Stiles struggled to suck in another breath, mind racing. Capital of California? What was the capital of California? Fuck, he couldn’t remember. He should remember.

_“Stiles, the capital of California. What is it? Just breathe, son, it’ll pass. Just breathe. What is the capital of California?”_

“Sacramento.”

_“Good. How do you spell it?”_

“What?” Stiles clenched his eyes more tightly. “Um.” He had to think really hard about it, but he managed to get each letter out, forcing them past numb lips.

_“Good, that’s good. You’re doing great, Stiles. Just breathe. What about Oregon? What’s the capital of Oregon?”_

“Fuck, I don’t...” Stiles was still clinging to Scott, trying to get his brain to work, trying to calm his breathing. “Salem.”

_“Good. What about Washington?”_

It came faster this time. “Olympia.”

He could feel his breathing beginning to calm down the more questions he was asked, his mind focussing on the answers rather than what he was panicking about to begin with. It felt like he was panicking for hours, and he was exhausted, but eventually he managed to get his breathing back under control and he pulled away from Scott.

His friend was watching him worriedly, one hand gripping his shoulder and the other still holding up his phone, where ‘Sheriff Stilinski’ flashed on the screen.

Leaning back against the door, Stiles closed his eyes and let his head thump back against the wood, letting out a slow breath.

“I’m good,” he said quietly. “I’m fine. I’m okay. Sorry, dad.”

_“Don’t ever be sorry. Are you okay?”_

“Yeah.” Stiles rubbed at his face with both hands, feeling wetness on his cheeks. He didn’t know if it was sweat or tears. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

_“Been a few years, kiddo. What happened?”_

He didn’t want to think about it, or he’d panic again. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you in a minute, okay?”

_“Okay. I’m timing you. Scott, can you get him to his room?”_

“Sure,” he said, though he seemed uncertain. “I’ll wait for him to call you back before leaving him.”

_“Thanks, son. And thanks for calling.”_

“Yeah, no problem.” Scott hung up and put his phone away, eying Stiles worriedly. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” Stiles insisted, motioning for Scott to help him up. He did, grabbing his hand and hauling him to his feet. Stiles turned to pull open the door, and felt his heart jerk in his chest when he found Derek still there, looking worried.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, avoiding his eye and brushing past him. “Panic attack, it’s nothing.”

“Does that happen often?”

Great. Now the source of his fucking panic attack was _following_  him.

“Sometimes.”

“You’ve never had one in front of me,” Scott insisted. “How long has this been going on?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Stiles insisted, turning to them and immediately wishing he hadn’t, because Derek walked into him, and God his chest was toned, and Stiles _could not deal with this right now_! “Stop coddling me! Just leave me alone!”

He shoved at Derek then turned to hurry for the stairwell, not wanting to start panicking again. He rushed down to his own floor, pushing through the door and hurried to his room. His hands were shaking when he unlocked his door, but he managed to get it open before Derek and Scott reached him. He disappeared into his room and slammed the door, locking it from the inside.

Thunking his head against the door, he closed his eyes and tried to breathe. Shit. He hadn’t realized how much almost being caught would affect him. He definitely could _not_  put that note in Derek’s suggestion box.

He could hear Scott and Derek having a quiet conversation on the other side of his door, but he just turned to grab his phone off his desk and called his dad back.

Right now, the only person who could calm him down was his dad, because he’d been around for enough of Stiles’ panic attacks to know exactly how to help him.

Thank God Scott had called him.

Thank God for his dad.

* * *

“Is he okay?” Derek asked the second Boyd entered his room.

He’d called Boyd when Stiles had barricaded himself in his room, but he and his friend Scott could hear him talking through the door, so he’d obviously called his dad back. Stiles seemed to have a problem with Derek, which meant he was definitely homophobic, but he wasn’t comfortable leaving him alone.

Boyd was on a date with Erica, but he’d called him anyway, and felt like shit for it. Thankfully they’d already been on their way back, and Boyd had shown up a few minutes later, knocking on Stiles’ door while Derek went down to keep Erica company in Boyd’s room.

Boyd had been gone for almost twenty minutes, so he’d probably gotten more out of Stiles than Derek had. It was kind of worrying that one of the guys in the dorm was _so_  against Derek being into dudes that he wouldn’t even let him _help_  him.

“Shaken up, but he’s okay.” Boyd sat down on the edge of his bed, Erica and Derek in the two chairs he had in his room. “His friend stuck around and we got him to open his door. He was still on the phone with his dad, so I had a short chat with the man while his friend kept him calm. His dad said that he has them sporadically, but he hasn’t had one in years. He’s a little concerned, wants to know what brought it on.”

“I don’t know,” Derek insisted. “He was on the fourth floor looking for you, because you weren’t in your room, and he just started breathing really hard. Almost fell down the stairs. I grabbed at him, but wish I hadn’t, because I feel like that made it worse.”

“He said he was okay,” Boyd said with a shrug. “His dad seemed to think he was telling the truth, so he should be all right. I told him to call me if he has another one and I’ll head back upstairs so he’s not alone. His friend’s staying in his room for the night, so hopefully he’ll be okay.”

“How do you even _deal_  with panic attacks?” Erica asked, looking concerned. “Shit, that’s something we should probably know, I’ve never had someone have one before.”

“Yeah, this was definitely a first for me, I had to look it up on my phone, but I didn’t really have time to look into it in depth,” Derek muttered, thinking he’d kind of botched it.

Boyd motioned his computer and the three of them crowded around it while Derek looked it up on Google.

Apparently touching was bad, so he’d definitely made it worse by grabbing at Stiles. Though that was only on one site, because another said touching was okay as long as the person having the attack was familiar with whoever was touching them. Stiles didn’t really know Derek, so that probably hadn’t helped.

There were a few sites that seemed to contradict each other, but the common themes were mostly about making sure _not_  to tell the person to calm down. To try and remind them to breathe, to focus on their breathing, and to keep their mind off what was happening.

Derek realized that was what Stiles’ dad had been doing. He’d been asking Stiles questions, making him think about something other than his panic, and it had helped calm him down. He’d also mentioned something about the attack passing, that it was only temporary, and Derek looked that up and found a few sites that mentioned that, as well.

Apparently it helped to remind them that this wasn’t permanent, that the panic would pass eventually, and to just breathe. Derek hadn’t known any of this and it made him extremely uncomfortable to realize that he’d probably made things worse for Stiles.

He wondered if Stiles had already been having the panic attack when Derek had found him, but why would he be looking for Boyd when his first instinct when his breathing had gotten erratic was to head for his friend’s room?

It was getting late by then, and Boyd asked Erica if she was sticking around or not. She said she felt like she should head back, probably because their conversation was making her worried about her own dorm kids. Derek headed out when the other two left, going back to his room and flipping the sign to show he was in.

He paused when he saw someone had scribbled a note on his whiteboard. He had no idea who it was from, but he could guess.

_Sorry._

Pulling the pen off the board and yanking the lid off, he wrote a message beneath it, hoping Stiles would see it.

_It’s okay. I’m glad you’re feeling better._

So homophobic, but guilty about it. Probably meant he wasn’t _entirely_  homophobic. Still, they were going to be around each other for another seven months, so he hoped whatever Stiles’ problem with him was went away relatively quickly.

Heading back into his room, he sighed and fell into his desk chair, exhausted and wanting to go to sleep, but knowing his brain was too active. He pulled up the shared spreadsheet he and Boyd had for the Secret Gift-Giving, since they still hadn’t finished moving people around. The whole point was for people to interact with others they didn’t already know, and it seemed like every time they thought they had it down, they would realize that so-and-so already knew that one person they were giving a gift to and had to revamp it.

Derek shifted a few more names around, and paused when he stopped on Stiles. They’d chosen to put his preferred name instead of his legal name, because even trying to think about how to spell it was hurting Derek’s head.

He stared at the guy’s name for an extremely long time, then let out a small sigh and knew he was going to regret this. He deleted his name from beside his giftee and scrolled to Boyd’s name, hesitating before switching who was currently there with Stiles.

If Stiles was assigned Boyd as his giftee, it meant he would have no choice but to talk to Derek. Sure, he could try and corner Erica or Isaac, but the two of them always tended to _be_  with either Derek or Boyd, so Stiles would have no choice.

He would have to talk to him.

A dick move, maybe, but Derek just wanted a chance to show Stiles that he wasn’t a bad guy, and that he wasn’t weird or twisted for liking men. For some reason he just really didn’t want Stiles to dislike him, so if he had to cheat a little bit, well, he would do it.

Not like anyone was going to know.

* * *

“I can’t believe he managed to get that for you without _once_  talking to me,” Derek grumbled, walking alongside Boyd while they headed back to the dorm after dinner.

It was December seventh, the day for Secret Gift-Giving, and Boyd had woken up to a package outside his door from Stiles. It was a copy of Chaucer’s _Canterbury Tales_ , in relatively good condition, written in old English and thus extremely hard to come by.

Derek had _no idea_ how Stiles knew that Boyd would want that, but apparently he hadn’t spoken to Erica _or_  Isaac, and had just seemed to _know_. Boyd assumed it was because they’d had discussions in the past about books, but either way, he was thrilled about the present.

Derek’s person had bought him gloves and a scarf, and while he appreciated them, it was obvious they hadn’t spoken to anyone about Derek because he didn’t often get cold. He was outside in the snow right now wearing only his leather jacket and nothing else, and he was _fine_. The gift wasn’t going to be used very much.

“Your own fault for trying to force his hand,” Boyd insisted with a small smile. Derek just shoved him good naturedly and they continued on towards their dorm. It was just after six, and they knew that there would be parties tonight, because it was the final day of classes. Sure, exams started up on Monday, but he knew most people wouldn’t worry about that until tomorrow.

“Gonna be a lot of alcohol tonight,” Derek said with a sigh, swiping his pass and putting in the code for the building. The door buzzed and Boyd pulled it open, the two of them walking into the entrance of their dorm.

“Yup. I think most people will stick to the first floor, though. I’ll keep an eye on them if you do the rounds on the other three.”

“Sure, sounds good.” He slapped Boyd in the back. “Text me later, okay? We should go off campus for breakfast with Erica and Isaac.”

“I’m down.”

“Talk to you later.” Derek waved once and headed for the stairs, climbing the six flights up to his floor and heading for his room. He flipped his sign, and stared at the note still on his whiteboard.

He didn’t know if Stiles had seen it, but he hadn’t erased their short conversation. No one else had left him any other messages, since most people preferred to leave him notes in his suggestion box, but he hoped Stiles had come by and noticed it at some point.

Derek was tempted to get rid of his suggestion box sometimes, because lately he was mostly getting messages about him being disgusting and going against God’s will, _or_  messages from girls saying they heard he was bisexual and they’d love a night with him.

No _actual_  suggestions. But he knew the second he got rid of it, something would happen and someone would need it, so he figured he could survive with the rude comments and the disturbing messages. He felt like a piece of meat sometimes, it was extremely disheartening.

Going to his desk, he booted up his laptop and opened one of his assignments, getting to work on it and keeping an eye on the time. He could hear music and partying start around eight-thirty, and decided to do his first walk-around at nine.

His floor was pretty bare, but the second and third had a lot of people laughing and drinking with loud music playing. The loudest area seemed to be the first floor, but it always was since the common room was bigger.

He went back to his room to do some more homework, doing another walk-around at ten. Everything seemed to be okay, and he decided to head down to the first floor to see if Boyd needed any help. He pushed through the stairwell door and started past the crowded common room, looking in at what was almost a rave, and froze.

There was a guy in the room doing the sprinkler, and while Derek knew it was a common dance move, he would recognize that dancing _anywhere_ , because it was what had made him interested in the party doing it to begin with.

He stood frozen at the end of the windowed room, staring in at the person jumping and laughing, and then he turned around and Derek thought he was seeing things.

Because it was Stiles.

Stiles was the one dancing like an idiot and having a good time, just like he had been at the Halloween party.

And Stiles’ eyes caught sight of him and the huge smile on his face disappeared instantly. His hands fell back to his sides, his eyes widened, and it looked like all the blood had drained from his face.

Stiles was his mystery man.

 _Stiles_ was his fucking _mystery man_!

Derek started for the door to the common room but Stiles raced for it and flew out of the room, bolting down the corridor in the opposite direction of Derek, heading for the stairs at the other end.

“Stiles, wait!” Derek chased after him.

“Get away from me!”

“Stiles!” Derek slammed through the stairwell door, grabbing the railing to help him climb the stairs faster. Stiles was quick, but Derek was taller, so their gap was closing quickly.

Stiles raced for his bedroom door, getting it open by the time Derek reached it. When he went to slam it, Derek wedged one foot between the door and the frame and slammed into it hard enough to knock Stiles back.

He wanted an explanation, and he fucking wanted one _now_!

“What the hell are you doing?!” Stiles demanded, backing up quickly. “Get out of my room!”

“You’re him,” Derek insisted. “You’re Lance.”

“Who the fuck is Lance?” Stiles asked, voice fairly shrill. “Get out of my room, Derek! Just get the fuck out!”

“I _know_  it’s you,” Derek snapped. “I recognize your dancing, and I _know_  you know that!”

“Just leave me alone!”

Derek turned towards Stiles’ closet, accidentally kicking the door and making it slam shut. He wrenched his closet open and Stiles was there instantly, grabbing at his arm and yanking him away, telling him to get the fuck out of his room.

He knew he should listen. He knew that he was crossing a line, but he was _pissed_  because Stiles had been acting weird around him for _weeks_  and apparently it was because they’d been making out. What the actual fuck?!

Shrugging Stiles off while he looked through the things in his closet, he yanked hard at a pile of sweaters on the ground and caught sight of something white. He bent down and pulled it out, flipping it around and staring at the helmet of a blue paladin from _Voltron_.

“Who’s Lance, huh?” Derek demanded, still crouched and turning to look at Stiles. He’d gone pale, and it looked like he wasn’t breathing. “You wanna try that again?” He waved the helmet once, then threw it back into the closet, getting to his feet. “I was looking for you! You _knew_  I was! My _friends_  were trying to help me _find_  you! Why didn’t you say anything? How could you just let me hunt for you like that?!”

“Because!” Stiles shouted, his breathing beginning to come faster.

“Because what?” Derek snapped, looming over him. He didn’t mean to loom, but he was pissed, and embarrassed, and a little hurt that Stiles had been a dick to him this whole time when he’d had no fucking problem shoving his tongue down his throat a few weeks ago.

“Because!” Stiles repeated, one hand in his hair and tugging, breathing even faster. “I’m not...”

“Not what?” Derek demanded.

“I’m not...”

“Not _what_?!”

“I’m not _out_!” Stiles shouted.

Derek froze for only a second, then whipped around to check the door. It was firmly closed, and he could hear loud music, so it was entirely likely no one had heard him. Derek could feel his heart slamming in his chest, because he’d done this. Jesus Christ, he’d cornered and yelled at a freshman because his ego was hurt and could’ve forced Stiles to admit that loud enough for other people to hear.

Derek obviously knew he liked guys, they’d been making out, but he would _never_  want _anyone_  to hear about this if Stiles hadn’t told anyone. He severely hoped no one was outside the room when he’d shouted that, or else Derek would fucking quit because _what_  kind of an RA _was_  he?

“I can’t...”

He turned back to Stiles and saw him clutching at his chest with one hand, the other gripping the back of his desk chair and his breathing erratic.

“Shit,” Derek blurted out, because Stiles was having another panic attack. “Oh shit. Stiles, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He started to reach for him out of instinct, but managed to stop himself before touching him, hands hovering just above his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I wasn’t—Stiles, you’re having a panic attack, and that’s okay, it’s not—you’re gonna get through this.”

Fuck, he couldn’t remember anything he’d read because he was still panicking about what he’d just done. He forced himself to push that aside, because Stiles was on his knees now, still clutching at his chest, and breathing so hard Derek was worried he was going to tear something.

He crouched down in front of him, looking around Stiles’ room for something he could use to distract him, and his eyes fell on the various puns about the periodic table.

“What’s the first square of the periodic table?” he blurted out. He didn’t even know the answer himself, but Stiles seemed smart enough to, and he was sure he’d get it right.

Stiles was still gasping, struggling to inhale, and Derek _didn’t know what to do_.

“Come on, Stiles. Just breathe. Just breathe. Think about something else. You’re gonna be okay, it’ll pass. Just-just tell me. What’s the first square of the periodic table? I know you know it, come on.”

Stiles was still breathing hard, head bowed with one hand gripping the back of his chair above him, and the other clenched in the front of his shirt.

“Stiles, I’m sorry. Please just–what is it? The first square. Come on, you’re so smart, I know you know it.” Maybe he should get Boyd. He didn’t want to leave Stiles alone though, and he didn’t have his phone on him. Shit, he needed to do something!

“Hydrogen.”

“Good,” Derek blurted out, relieved. He had no idea if that was true or not, but he figured Stiles would know better than him. “That’s so good. You’re doing great, Stiles. Just keep breathing. Can you tell me the second square?”

It took him a few seconds, but he finally forced out, “Helium.”

“Keep going. Keep going, you’re doing great. Just slow your breathing, you’re doing great.”

It took an exceptionally long time for him to calm down, but Derek figured it was because he was panicking over something _Derek_  had inflicted. And he was right in front of him, so he was probably getting himself all worked up again every few minutes without meaning to.

Eventually though, his breathing slowed, the two of them just sitting on the floor in front of each other. Derek was trying to make sure he was okay before he spoke, so he waited an extra five minutes to be sure his breathing had slowed enough.

When he opened his mouth to speak, Stiles beat him to it, head bowed and hands still gripping the back of his chair and the front of his own shirt.

“I’m not out,” he repeated quietly. “I just—Halloween is the _one_  night a year where I can—I just dress up in something that hides my face, and I can be _me_.” He sniffed and the hand on his chair left it, coming to his face and wiping at his nose. “People from home go to school here, I have friends here. Scott. There’s another guy, too. Jackson. He’s a dick, and he hates me, and I just... I was scared.” His breathing was starting to quicken again and Derek carefully reached out and put his hand on his shoulder. Stiles tensed, but he didn’t say anything about it. “I can’t let this get back to my dad, I can’t. He’d be so-he’d be so ashamed of me.” His breathing was definitely getting faster again and Derek needed to stop that _now_. “And I don’t know you. I don’t know what you’re gonna do with this information, so I can’t—”

“Stiles, _Stiles_!” Derek reached for his face, forcing him to look up at him. “Stiles, it’s okay, just breathe. You’re okay, I _promise_.”

“Please don’t tell my dad,” Stiles said, breathing still coming faster than Derek was comfortable with and tears brimming in his eyes. “Please, you can’t tell anyone. Please, I can—I’ll pay you, I’ll do anything, anything you want, please just—”

“Stiles,” Derek gave his head a small shake. “Stiles, I would _never_  out someone. Never.” He felt like someone had reached into his chest and was squeezing his heart because Stiles looked _so fucking scared_ , and Derek had _done that_ and he fucking _hated_  himself. He brushed one thumb across Stiles’ cheek when a tear spilled over. “I won’t tell anyone,” he said again. “That isn’t up to me. Or Scott. Or your dad, or anyone else. When you decide to come out, _if_  you decide to come out, that’s all you. No one should ever take that from you, and I’m _sorry_ , I’m _so_  fucking sorry. I didn’t mean for this, I didn’t mean to do this to you. I promise, Stiles, I’m not going to _ever_  be the one to say anything to _anyone_. I promise. I’m so sorry.”

No amount of apologizing was going to make this better, and he knew that, but it looked like Stiles wasn’t going to have another attack, and that was the important thing. Derek just stayed in front of him, holding his face in both hands, and continued to breathe, trying to get Stiles to match him while his mind raced.

He knew Stiles’ fear. He understood how he felt. Because he’d _been there_. And it had _sucked_. But he hadn’t had some big guy muscle his way into his room and practically force the words out of him. He’d had the chance to sit and think the words over, decide how he wanted to do it, and he’d fucking _stolen_  that from Stiles.

He was never going to forgive himself for putting that terrified look on his face, and Stiles shouldn’t ever forgive him, either. Derek felt like the worst person on the planet, and he should’ve thought this through before muscling his way into Stiles’ room.

Of _course_  Stiles knew Derek recognized him! He’d known the second he’d turned around, it was why he ran away. And Derek should’ve clued in to that! Why was he so fucking _stupid_?! How could he not have realized that Stiles was running from him _for a reason_?!

Derek jumped when someone laughed too loudly in the corridor and turned, making sure the bedroom door was still shut. He looked back at Stiles briefly, hands still on his face, and slowly slid them off, getting to his feet. He hurried to the door and opened it, looking out into the corridor. There was a drunk couple stumbling their way to one of the rooms, but no one else besides the partiers in the common room. He was fairly certain no one had overheard them, but he didn’t want to leave Stiles like this all night.

They needed to talk, because he knew from experience Stiles was going to lose his fucking mind if he didn’t.

He shut the door once more and went to crouch in front of Stiles again, who still looked pale and had tears on his face, like his entire world was crashing down around him. Derek felt his chest aching and he reached for his shoulder again, squeezing tightly.

“Come on, Stiles. Let’s go for a drive. It won’t be weird, you’re just going out with the RA to grab some snacks. We’ll stop at a store and get some chips to make it believable, okay?”

Stiles shook his head emphatically, looking terrified again.

“Stiles, I just—I want to help you. I promise, it’ll be fine. No one will know anything. We’re just going to get some snacks, okay?”

Derek whipped around when Stiles’ door opened, and cursed internally when Scott poked his head into the room. He was frowning, and looked suspicious, as if not trusting Derek alone in a room with his friend.

“Everything okay?” he asked, eyes shooting between Derek and Stiles.

“It’s fine,” Derek insisted, trying to block as much of Stiles as he could with his body, hand still on his shoulder. “Stiles just had another panic attack. I think there were too many people in the common room. I was about to head out and get some snacks, just checking to see if he wanted to come, get some fresh air.” He looked back at Stiles. “No pressure. I just think air might be good for you.”

Stiles looked like he didn’t know if he was more scared to go with Derek, or stay behind with Scott. Both were probably equally horrible in his mind, and Derek wished he could just take back the past half hour. Just turn the clock back and not go downstairs. He should’ve just stuck to his own rounds, Boyd could handle the first floor, _why_  had he gone down there?

“Okay,” Stiles managed to get out, sniffing once and wiping his hand across his nose. “Yeah, okay.” He cleared his throat and grabbed the collar of his shirt, using it to bring the material over his face and wiping at the wetness on his cheeks.

Derek stood, holding out a hand to him and Stiles took it, letting himself get pulled to his feet. He plastered a smile on his face that broke Derek’s heart a little when he faced his friend, patting Scott on the shoulder on his way by.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Scott asked, confused.

“I’m fine, Scotty. It’s nothing. Enjoy the party, I’ll be back in a second.”

“Okay.” Scott didn’t sound very sure, and he eyed Derek suspiciously when he exited his room. Derek just raised his eyebrows at him, and Scott seemed to realize he was trying to stare down someone three years older than him.

Stiles locked his door and the three of them headed for the stairs together. Scott hesitated when they reached the entrance, but Stiles just waved him back to the common room where the party was still going strong and pushed out of the building.

Scott waited an extra few seconds before turning to go but Derek touched his arm lightly.

“Can you tell Boyd where I went? I just want him to know I left the building, and I don’t have my phone.”

“Okay,” Scott said, and Derek watched him turn and walk off. He bypassed the party, which meant he was going to do as Derek asked, so he turned back to the exit and hurried after Stiles.

He caught up to him about ten steps out from the dorm, and motioned the closest lot where his Camaro was parked. Thankfully he had his car keys with his room keys, so he didn’t have to make a detour for them.

Unlocking the doors, he climbed behind the wheel and Stiles got in on the passenger side. It looked like he’d lost all the fight in him, quiet and obedient while he buckled himself in and stared out the windshield.

Derek didn’t know what to say, because while this was something he could relate to, it also wasn’t. Stiles had never meant for Derek to know he was the one he’d been making out with, he’d wanted to just go out and enjoy himself for one night, and then move on.

This actually explained why he’d gotten so nervous and hostile around Derek since the party, because every time he saw him he was probably wondering if this was it. Derek knew it was him. He was going to get outed.

He couldn’t imagine how stressful that must be, and he still couldn’t believe his own fucking hurt ego had made him react so violently and had forced the words out of Stiles. He could never take that back, and he wished there was something he could say to show how truly, _desperately_  sorry he was.

Backing out of his parking space, they headed out of the dorm area and towards the main road so they could leave campus. They were silent the whole time, and Derek figured the best thing to do was to just get some ice cream or something and sit in the car away from school and talk.

No one would find it weird to see Stiles and his RA together having a chat, but he wanted Stiles to have peace of mind, so he figured the further out they went, the better.

The roads were still fairly well travelled, despite it being almost eleven. Derek just wove through traffic, being sure not to drive too fast, and eventually turned into a McDonald’s drive-thru. He ordered them both a chocolate sundae with no nuts—he didn’t know if Stiles was allergic to nuts and he didn’t want to ask him right now—and when they had their treats, he handed them over to Stiles and went to park in the McDonald’s lot.

Taking one of the sundaes for himself, he ripped the spoon out of its plastic wrapper and dug it into his ice cream. Stiles was just staring down at it like he didn’t know what to do with it.

“Stiles?” Derek said, wanting him to look at him. It seemed to take a herculean effort, but he finally did, eyes raising to lock on Derek’s. “I know you’re scared. I know you are, because I remember this feeling, too. I know nothing I say can take back what I did, and no amount of words can ever express how _sorry_  I am, but I promise you, I _promise_ , I am _not_  going to tell anyone. I would never do that. Coming out is something everyone has to do in their own time, and no matter what happens, I am never going to breathe a word of this to anyone. Not Scott, not your dad, not my friends, no one. _No one_ will know this until you want them to. Okay?”

Stiles kept staring at him, inspecting every inch of his face, like he was trying to find the lie in Derek’s expression. He just kept eye contact with him until Stiles finally let out a slow, shaky breath and turned away. He pulled the wrapper off his spoon with shaky fingers and dug it into his ice cream, bringing a bite to his mouth.

Derek kept watching him, waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t. He was probably still too scared, so Derek figured it was his job to get the conversation going.

“It’s pretty smart,” he said, making Stiles glance at him. “What you do. The Halloween thing. It’s smart. A little lonely, because you can’t just be yourself, but I respect that. You found a way to be yourself at least once a year, so that’s really great.”

“I’m not smart, I’m stupid,” Stiles insisted, stabbing his spoon a little harder into his ice cream. “I made out with the RA of my dorm, like a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Stiles. You just wanted to have a fun night, and I’m hoping that you did. I’m sorry that it ended up forcing your hand, though, that was never my intention.”

Stiles shrugged one shoulder, still looking into his ice cream, playing with the fudge that had stuck to the plastic sides.

“Is that why you ran when the prizes were announced? Because you were worried people would see your face?”

Stiles nodded, still not looking at him.

Derek took a bite of his ice cream, thinking, and realized something. “You were the guy I saw walking away. In the jeans and the hoodie with the backpack.”

Stiles nodded once more, taking a bite of his ice cream. “The pants were tight enough that I could pull my jeans on over them. The hoodie I yanked on over the rest and I shoved the helmet into my backpack.”

“See?” Derek nudged him lightly with his elbow. “Smart.”

Stiles snorted, clearly disagreeing.

Derek licked some ice cream off his spoon, then looked back down into his container. “How long have you been into guys?”

Stiles was silent for a moment, then he said, “Since I was fifteen. Maybe earlier, I don’t know. I knew I didn’t like girls when I was twelve, but I didn’t really think about liking guys until I was about fifteen. I hadn’t really thought on it much until then.”

“I was about that age, too,” Derek admitted, taking another bite of his ice cream. “Fifteen or so. I didn’t really get it, either, because I knew I liked girls, but sometimes I looked at guys and they were just so good looking. It took me a few months to realize I might be into guys in a romantic way. We had a few gay guys at my high school, so it was easy to get some support. They were all really great, and they didn’t tell anyone about me until I was ready. They just helped me come to terms with my sexuality, and helped me figure out my orientation.”

“So you’re bisexual, then?” Stiles asked his ice cream.

“I am, but I think I’m about seventy-thirty towards men. I still like women, because they’re gorgeous and they have nice curves,” he smiled a little when he said this. “But men are just—I don’t know, there’s just something about men that really gets me going.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said quietly. “I really like muscles,” he admitted.

“Muscles are great,” Derek agreed. “But I don’t need muscles to like a guy.”

“Clearly,” Stiles said with a wet snort and Derek laughed, nudging him again.

It was obvious Stiles wasn’t okay, not even a little, but at least he wasn’t shutting down anymore, which was good. Derek didn’t care how long they stayed out, so long as Stiles was at least calmer when they went back. He didn’t want to wake up to Scott panicking because he’d killed himself.

Actually, now he was worried about that and would probably need Scott to stay with him again to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid.

“How was it for you?” Stiles asked quietly a few minutes later, both of their ice creams finished.

“What?” Derek asked, taking his trash and putting their two containers together, then setting them in the drink tray.

“Coming out. Was it—how did people react?”

Derek sighed and leaned back in his seat, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s different for everyone,” he admitted. “I came out to my younger sister first, Cora. She’s about your age, so she grew up with the whole gay pride parade and equality and all that. Not to say I didn’t, but I feel like the younger you are, the more tolerant you are, which is why I started with her. She was fine with it, thanked me for letting her be my first. She was really supportive, and I think she’s the reason I was brave enough to come out to everyone else.”

“And it was okay?” Stiles asked, sounding almost hopeful.

Derek wished he could say it was.

“Partly. My older sister took it in stride, she didn’t really care either way. I don’t think she really gets it, but she also doesn’t care about it. To her, I’m just Derek. My mom was supportive, but upset. Not about my sexuality, but more about how hard she knew things would be for me. There’s still a lot of intolerance in the world, and I know she worries, but she just told me I was her son and she didn’t care as long as I was happy.”

Derek let out another slow breath before he continued, because this was something he hated talking about, but if there was anyone who needed to hear it, it was Stiles.

“My dad—didn’t take it well. At all. He basically called me a spawn of Satan, insisted I was sick, tried to get me ‘help’ so he could ‘fix me’.” He winced. “He and my mom fought a lot about it. I was still in grade eleven back then, and by the time I graduated high school, they’d separated. They got divorced in my second year of university.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said softly.

Derek shrugged. “I haven’t spoken to him in almost four years. It’s hard, and it hurts, but I can’t change who I am. I keep hoping he’ll change his mind, but...” He could feel the back of his throat itching, like he was going to start tearing up, and he forced the feelings back. “I feel worse for my mom and my sisters. They had to take sides, and while my sisters still visit my dad, and no one blames me for what happened, I still hate that my parents basically started fighting and got divorced because of me. But I can’t change who I am, and if my dad can’t accept me, then that’s his loss.”

Stiles was quiet for a long time, and when Derek turned to him, he saw him staring down at his hands in his lap. He waited for him to speak, because he could tell Stiles was trying to gather his thoughts, and he didn’t want to interrupt him.

“I’ve only got my dad,” Stiles finally said. “My mom died when I was nine, and I’m an only child, so it’s just me and dad. I’ve known Scott since I was three, so he’s kind of like my brother, but he’s not—it’s just my dad.” His eyes were tearing up again and he let out a harsh exhale. “I know he wouldn’t understand. I know this wouldn’t end well for me, and I just—I can’t lose him. I tried so hard when I was in high school. I had girlfriends, I made out with girls, I even tried having sex with them, but I just—I don’t _like_  girls. I like guys. I like men.” He winced. “I like _you_.”

“Stiles, you’re allowed to like whoever you want,” Derek insisted. “And trust me, I know it’s scary, but one day you’ll feel comfortable enough to tell the people you care about. Some of them will understand, and some of them won’t.”

“I can’t handle it if I lose my dad,” he blurted out, looking at Derek and seeming terrified again. “Derek, I can’t lose my dad. He’s all I have. He’s _everything_ , and I just—” He cut off, another tear falling from his left eye.

Derek reached out to brush it away with his thumb, feeling his heart breaking. He remembered this feeling, he remembered how scared he’d been. He remember how broken he’d felt when his dad had said, “Someone as disgusting as you isn’t fit to be called my son.”

He knew exactly how Stiles felt, and he wished he could help him, that he could take this fear away from him, that everything could just magically be okay. But he didn’t know Scott, he didn’t know Stiles’ dad. He had no idea how anyone in his life would react to finding out Stiles was gay.

“You don’t need to tell anyone, Stiles. I shouldn’t have cornered you like that, and I wish I had enough words to tell you how sorry I am, because it was _wrong_  of me, and I’m so, so ashamed. I was hurt, and angry, and my pride was wounded, and I didn’t think about _why_  you hadn’t said anything, I just reacted because I was mad and upset. And I took it out on you, and there is nothing I can ever say to make up for that. But I’m glad we’re talking about this, because I want you to know that you’re _not alone_. I had some amazing, supportive people in high school who helped me before I came out to my family. I want you to know that I’m here for you. I want you to feel like you don’t have to keep everything all bottled up. If you want to come and talk to me about a hot guy you saw in one of your classes, I want you to feel like you can. If you have questions about sex, or about good porn sites, or you need condoms or lube or _anything_ , I need you to know that you can talk to me. You’re not alone in this, and I want to be here for you. Okay?”

Stiles was crying again. Derek hated that he was crying again, because it was making his chest ache, but he could tell that Stiles was just relieved. He’d been carrying this secret around alone for so many years, and Derek really hoped that he believed he could come to him.

Derek had people who supported him. He wanted to help support Stiles. He wouldn’t tell anyone, they could do this without anyone ever knowing. When Stiles decided to come out, if ever, Derek was going to be there for him because it sounded like he had no one else, and nobody should go through something like this alone.

“Okay,” Stiles finally said.

“I mean it,” Derek insisted. “I’m here for you, and we can keep this between us. I won’t tell anyone anything.”

“What about Boyd?”

“What about him?” Derek asked.

Stiles looked uncomfortable. “You guys are friends.”

“So?” Derek cocked an eyebrow. “This is _yours_ , not mine. I won’t tell him that you’re gay just because he’s my friend, it’s not any of his business. What you say to me stays with me, unless you’re thinking of harming yourself or others. That I can’t in good conscience keep to myself, but everything else stays between us.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, sniffing again and wiping at his nose with one hand.

“Yeah, Stiles. It’s between us.” He offered him a smile and reached out to pat his cheek once. “Okay? You feeling okay?”

Stiles shrugged, but it wasn’t a no. Derek knew this was kind of an emotional experience for him, so he probably wouldn’t be okay for a while, but he hoped Stiles believed him.

“Let’s get some snacks for the party, okay? It’s probably gonna keep going all night.” Derek started the car and eased out of the parking spot, heading back onto the road and driving them towards the closest WalMart.

They were silent for a long while, but Derek smiled a little when they finally found the store he was looking for and while he turned into the lot, he glanced at Stiles.

“By the way,” he said, “you’re a phenomenal kisser.”

Stiles was fucking _adorable_  when he was embarrassed.

* * *

He knew it wasn’t the best of ideas, but Stiles had started skipping dinner with Scott. It was easier to do right now, because of exam period and all the studying he was doing, but it was also because he was scared.

Stiles knew he hadn’t changed. He wasn’t _different_ , because he’d been like this for years, but somehow, talking about everything with Derek made him _feel_  different.

Nobody had ever known before. Stiles had made out with a few guys on Halloween, but they were just random people he’d never see again. They didn’t know who he was, and they didn’t know Stiles Stilinski specifically was gay.

But someone knew, now. Derek knew that Stiles was gay. And it was terrifying.

And awesome.

And terrifying.

It was weird, knowing that he legitimately _could_  talk about it with someone, even if he didn’t think he’d ever do it. It was nice that Derek said he could, but it would be a little hard for Stiles to talk to Derek about his crush considering _he_  was his crush.

He still kind of hated him for barging into his room like he had, but as he’d calmed down over the course of the week, he realized that Derek had just been hurt and angry. And it was obvious with how he’d whipped around to check the door that he hadn’t meant to do what he’d done.

Stiles had crossed a line before while he was angry, too. It happened to everyone. And it wasn’t like Derek hadn’t already known Stiles was into guys, considering the making out, so he couldn’t get mad at him for that. But he was still mad. Less mad than he’d been a week ago, but still mad.

And jealous. So jealous. Because Derek had so many people in his family. He had so many people that he could talk to, and while he’d lost his dad, he still had his mom and two sisters.

Stiles only had his dad. If this got back to him, if he found out... Stiles was so fucking scared he’d find out. Stiles kept imagining waking up to his phone ringing and his dad telling him he was disgusting, that he hated him, that he wished he’d died instead of his mother.

He had nightmares about it. He’d been having nightmares about it for years. He’d tried so hard to like girls, to be _normal_ , to just... _not_  be gay. He’d tried so hard because he didn’t want to lose his dad, but he couldn’t.

It was like Derek had said in the car. Stiles couldn’t change who he was. He was gay, and that was just—who he was. People didn’t have to like it, but they should at least accept it. He wasn’t hurting anyone, he just wanted to be happy.

Stiles didn’t know if he’d ever truly been happy since his mother died. She’d passed away, and then he’d grown up having to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. It was why he did what he did on Halloween. Why he’d been doing it for years. Why Scott thought he hated Halloween, because Stiles had to hide his costumes from him so he didn’t know it was Stiles. So that he could go out, meet some guys, have a good time.

It had been fun with Derek that night. Dancing and making out and just being himself. It had been a mistake, because he should’ve been more conscious of the fact that this was his RA, who he would see every fucking day, but it had just felt _so good_ to be open and honest and just...

It had felt so good to be _Stiles_.

And he wanted to believe Derek. He did. He wanted to believe him so badly, that he wouldn’t tell anyone, that he would keep this to himself no matter what, but it was hard. Having that much faith in someone was _hard_.

One slip-up, one misstep, and it would be possible for Scott to find out. Or worse, Jackson. It was bad enough Stiles had had English with him this semester, he didn’t want to imagine how catastrophic it would be if he found out about this.

Jackson would spread this news like wildfire back home. Sheriff Stilinski’s son was gay. Everyone would fucking know within hours. That wasn’t even an exaggeration, if Jackson found out, the entirety of Beacon Hills would know in a matter of hours.

And that was terrifying. He was just glad exams were here and hopefully he wouldn’t see Jackson next semester. With his luck, he probably would. They could only cross paths in the mandatory first year courses, since they were in different faculties and Stiles was doing a lot of second and third year classes, but it would be just his luck that his second English credit would be with Jackson _again_.

He just had to hope it wasn’t. He felt like Jackson could sniff him out, would take one whiff and realize he was gay. It felt so fucking _real_  now that someone knew. Now that someone could look at Stiles and know, in their mind, that he was gay.

He thunked his head on his desk, letting out a groan. He hated that he was obsessing, but it was all he’d been doing since he and Derek had gone for that drive. It had been fine when they’d come back, Derek finding Scott and asking him to stay with Stiles for the night because of his attack, but he’d been keeping his distance otherwise and just smiled at him when they passed each other heading to the common block, or on the stairs, or in the corridor.

It was weird, because Derek was just... he was just _there_. He wasn’t pushing him, and he wasn’t hovering. He was just around because he lived in the same dorm, and he smiled because he wanted Stiles to know he was there if he needed him.

It was nice. But weird. And scary. And Stiles didn’t know what to do.

And he was obsessing. He felt like he couldn’t concentrate, and he had his bio-chem exam in the morning, and he just could not _focus_!

Slapping his textbook shut, Stiles gathered both it and his notes and left his room, locking the door before heading upstairs to Scott’s room. He knocked on his door when he found it closed, but knew he probably wasn’t in. Scott tended to leave his door ajar when he was in his room, because he liked visitors and enjoyed meeting new people.

Predictably, he wasn’t there, which meant he’d probably gone to the library since he was easily distracted. Stiles sighed, wondering if he should go hunt him down, but it was after five and he didn’t want to lose time going _all_  the way there, and then coming _all_  the way back.

But he couldn’t focus. He needed _people_  and he didn’t want to bug Hayden. She was stressed enough, and unlike Stiles, she needed to be completely alone.

Hell, she was probably at the library, too.

Stiles went back to the stairwell and was about to go back to his own room when he hesitated, glancing up the next flight of stairs. It wasn’t that he _wanted_  to bug Derek, but he felt like having him in his line of sight would make him feel better, because if Stiles could _see_  him, then Derek wasn’t off spreading his secret to the world.

And he was nice to look at, Stiles wasn’t going to lie. He still didn’t know if Derek was honest when he’d admitted Stiles was a good kisser. Stiles thought _Derek_  was a good kisser. The entire thing had been fucking amazing, and he kind of wanted to kiss him again, but not right now, because he had to study, and his mind was wandering.

“He’s probably not even there,” Stiles said aloud to himself, still staring up the stairs. “And even if he is, he won’t want me there bugging him.”

He didn’t move, unable to convince himself to go back to his room, but also struggling to talk himself into going to Derek’s.

After a good few minutes of debate, he finally just headed up to the fourth floor, positive that Derek wasn’t even going to be there. Because why would he be? He was probably studying somewhere with Boyd and his two other friends. Erica and Isaac, if he recalled. They were probably all out together studying somewhere.

Stiles stopped in front of Derek’s room and stared at the sign he had taped to his door.

It said ‘In House.’ But that could mean he’d forgotten to flip it. Or it could even mean he was in the _dorm_ but not _in his room_. Really, it could mean any number of things.

“Just do it,” Stiles whispered to himself. “The worst that can happen is he says no.”

It wasn’t until he’d knocked on the door and heard movement from inside that he realized the worst that could happen was that he’d say _yes_.

Derek opened the door with a Twizzler hanging from his mouth. He seemed startled to see Stiles, but grinned so widely that it almost hurt to look at him. He pulled the candy from between his teeth before he spoke.

“Stiles. Hey. Everything okay?”

Stiles’ eyes shifted past him into the room, and he saw Boyd lying on his stomach on the floor with a textbook open. Erica was also on the floor with her head resting in the middle of Boyd’s back and a novel in both hands, lips moving while she read. It was presumably a book for one of her classes. It looked like the title was in Italian, so maybe she was taking an Italian literature course.

Isaac was on Derek’s bed, sitting up with his back against the wall, a notebook on one knee, and a notepad on the other, taking notes from one to the other.

Stiles had been right. Derek was studying with his friends. This was stupid, he didn’t know why he was even there.

“Sorry, I don’t—I’m just—” He motioned down the corridor and turned to hurry away, but Derek grabbed his shoulder before he even made it two steps.

“You came here for a reason,” Derek insisted, smiling at him. “I can make them leave if you need me to.”

“No, it’s fine,” Stiles insisted, tightening his hand around his textbook. He saw Derek’s eyes lower to it before returning to his face.

“Can’t study alone?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“Scott’s not in his room and my brain won’t turn off and I just need people near me so my mind stops wandering,” he blurted out.

“Well, my room is the place to be then.” Derek tugged him back towards the door and yanked him into the room, shutting it firmly behind them both. “Guys, this is Stiles. He needs somewhere to study where he won’t get distracted.”

“Join us in hell,” Boyd muttered from the floor. Erica just laughed, but didn’t take her eyes off her book.

“We have brain food over there,” Derek said, motioning his mini-fridge. There was a collection of chips on top of it, and Derek had some Twizzlers on his desk. Isaac had a few mini candy bars around him on the bed. “Find yourself space wherever you can.”

“Thanks,” he said awkwardly, looking around. The room was fairly big, since it looked like it was a room meant for two people. Stiles knew that the RAs had been given those rooms because of the duties they had, it was kind of a reward for doing their jobs without getting paid. They had a double room all to themselves.

Stiles started to pick his way across to a corner, since he wasn’t sure where else to sit, but Isaac just motioned at him until Stiles looked over, and then patted the bed beside him.

“Trust me, the floor sucks. Let Erica and Boyd suffer down there.”

Feeling uncomfortable, Stiles glanced at Derek, because he didn’t know that he would want someone he wasn’t friends with sitting on _his_  bed, but he’d just gone back to his desk and was reviewing his notes like Stiles wasn’t even there. He was sitting sideways in his chair, like he wanted to have half his attention on his work, and half on the door behind him.

He hesitated for only a moment longer before going over to Isaac and sitting on the bed a little ways from him. Isaac tossed him a candy bar, then went back to his notes. Stiles didn’t really want it, but he ate it anyway, figuring he needed the sugar.

Opening his textbook again, he got his notes out and pulled his pen from between the pages so he could get back to studying. The room was silent save for the soft breathing of the others, flipping pages, and the scratching sound of pen against paper. It was actually really nice, and Stiles found it helped him focus.

It was easier when there were other people around, because he had to be conscious not to bother them, which effectively forced him to pay attention to his own work. Usually it was him and Scott, but Scott couldn’t do this anywhere with WiFi because he would get distracted by things on his phone. Stiles could do this anywhere, so long as there were people, but not _too many_ people, like the library.

They all studied in silence for a few hours, and around eight, Erica let out a loud exclamation and sat up, tossing her book aside and rubbing her eyes before dragging her hands down her face.

“I feel like my brain is _melting_. I need coffee. Anyone want coffee?”

“ _God_ , yes,” Isaac insisted, tossing his notes aside. “I’ll go with you.”

“I’m actually kind of hungry,” Derek said, turning more to face his friends. “Kind of thinking about ordering pizza.”

“I could eat,” Boyd agreed, then looked at Stiles. “Pizza?”

They were all staring at him. It was weird. “I like pizza,” he agreed.

“Pizza it is.” Derek clapped his hands together. “Bring back some ice cream while you’re out. I’ll order the pizza.”

Erica saluted him, but before leaving, she wandered over to Derek’s window, stepping over Boyd to get there, and pulled the blinds up. She let out a sound of disgust.

“Ugh, I’m so glad Boyd’s room is on the other side of the building, I always forget until I open your blinds that you can literally see _right_  into the neighbouring dorm’s windows. Who designed this? So dumb.”

“Then don’t open my blinds,” Derek said, rolling his eyes.

“Excuse me,” she insisted, turning to him and motioning her hair. “I don’t wake up like this, you know. I was checking to see if it was _raining_ , stop being a dick.”

She turned away from the window, Derek rolling his eyes and leaning forward to grab at the cord, lowering his blinds once more.

“Don’t forget the ice cream,” he called when they exited, she and Isaac leaving the room and shutting the door behind them. Boyd put his head down on his textbook and Stiles realized that they were using this interruption as a mini-break. He figured he could afford a break, his brain was mush inside his skull right now.

“What do you like on your pizza, Stiles?” Derek asked.

He glanced over at him and saw he was on the Pizza Hut website, typing in his email. He probably had an account, which made sense, because Derek had been living on campus for four years.

“I’m good with anything.”

“You like Hawaiian?” Derek asked, turning to him. “None of these assholes like Hawaiian, I never get to have it.”

“Pineapple does not belong on pizza,” Boyd insisted, voice muffled due to his position with his face in his textbook.

Stiles laughed and shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t mind Hawaiian.”

“ _Finally_! Someone with _taste_!” Derek grinned, turning back to his computer.

“ _Bad_  taste, apparently,” Boyd said.

“ _Excellent_  taste,” Derek countered, ordering the pizzas.

Stiles watched him while he did so, and realized how close the four friends had to be. Derek didn’t even need to ask what anyone else wanted, he just ordered a medium Hawaiian for him and Stiles, a large meat-lovers and a small plain cheese pizza. He also got some cheesy bread and a two litre of Pepsi, going through to the end so he could ask for delivery.

“How much do I owe you?” Stiles asked when he’d finished.

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek said, turning to him and waving one hand. “We all take turns getting food for each other, you can bring some snacks next time.”

Stiles tried to ignore the warmth in his chest at the idea that there might be a next time. He didn’t really have many friends, mostly because he and Scott were always together, and while he knew these people were all in their final year, it would still be kind of nice to hang out with someone _other_  than Scott every now and then.

Sure, Stiles had Hayden, but she wasn’t so much a friend as a classmate. They had the same classes, and he helped her with homework, but they didn’t really go to dinner together or hang out and watch movies during the weekends. While he didn’t necessarily know that he would do either of those things with this group, Derek had made it pretty clear when he’d dragged him into the room that Stiles was welcome whenever he liked.

“So, Stiles,” Boyd said from the floor, turning his head so he wasn’t speaking into his textbook, “you got plans for winter break?”

“Nah, my dad can’t afford to fly me back home multiple times a year, so I’m sticking around here.” He grabbed a mini Mars bar and pulled it free of its wrapper, popping it into his mouth.

“Same for me. I live with my grandmother, and while I’d love to head home for Christmas, it’s not really in the budget, especially considering I’m moving off campus in the summer.” He groaned and sat up, rolling his neck and getting to his feet to stretch. “Guess we can hold down the fort while the rest of these fucks abandon us.”

“Are you heading home?” Stiles asked Derek. He’d turned so he was straddling his chair, arms crossed over the chairback. Stiles realized Derek had been staring at him while he hadn’t been looking, but the RA quickly shifted his gaze to Boyd when Stiles turned to him.

“Yeah, going to see my mom. It’s just her and me this year. My parents are divorced, and my sisters are going to spend it with my dad.”

Stiles already knew his parents were divorced. It occurred to him Derek had just said that so that Boyd wouldn’t know that Stiles already knew that. Because it would imply they’d had a discussion about it, which would bring up questions as to _why_  they’d had a discussion about it.

“Sorry to hear that,” he said automatically.

“It’s okay, I get on with my mom. We’ll probably just watch corny movies the whole time.”

“That sounds pretty great, actually.” Stiles wished he could go home and see his dad, but it was better this way. He wanted him to save up some money, and while he was sure his dad _could_  have him come home, there was no point in Stiles being here on a scholarship if his dad just spent all the saved income on flying him back and forth across the country.

“What kind of movies do you like?” Boyd asked him, and Stiles rattled off a few of his favourites. They spent the next couple of minutes talking about movies they could rent over the break and watch together, since all of Boyd’s friends were leaving and they might as well hang out together.

Stiles was cool with that. He liked Boyd, they got along.

Derek’s phone rang while they were discussing the pros and cons of renting on Itunes versus actually physically going to a store. He answered it and left the room, presumably to go and get the pizza from the main door. It occurred to Stiles that Erica and Isaac were taking a long time with the coffee, but Boyd insisted they were always like that because they wanted to stretch the break out as long as possible.

The two of them were alone for barely thirty seconds when Boyd said, “I’m glad you and Derek are okay.”

Stiles’ heart relocated itself in his throat. He knew it, he fucking _knew_  it! “What do you mean?” he forced out.

“You’ve been acting a little weird around him since Halloween. He figured it was because you were homophobic and found out he was bisexual. I guess when you guys went out to get the snacks last week, you sorted some things out.” Boyd shrugged, groaning and lying down on the floor once more, stretching himself out. “Derek’s a cool guy, and he doesn’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to him just because of his orientation. I’m just glad you were able to see past that, or that you solved whatever problem the two of you had. It’s probably not obvious to you, but he was really happy to see you when you knocked on his door. I think he’s just relieved you don’t hate him.”

Stiles’ heart was still tripping in his chest, but he felt like he could breathe again. Boyd didn’t know. He wasn’t commenting on the fact that Stiles was gay. He was just saying he noticed he and Derek had resolved their issue and were on good terms. It was fine. He was fine. Boyd didn’t know.

The door was kicked open and Stiles jumped. Boyd didn’t even react, turning slowly to the door when Derek walked in holding three pizzas of different sizes, cheesy bread and a bag with the pop in it. He tossed the small cheese pizza onto the floor by Boyd’s elbow and the larger man pulled it over, flipping it open and grabbing a slice. The large one he set down on his desk with the cheesy bread and the pop, but he kept the medium one in his hand and moved over to his bed, sitting down beside Stiles. He made sure to keep a space between them and put the box on his lap, flipping it open and grabbing a slice before motioning for Stiles to help himself.

It was kind of weird, being in this room, hanging out with fourth years like he belonged there. He liked it, though, grabbing himself a slice and taking a bite.

Erica and Isaac returned a few minutes later, tossing a tub of Ben&Jerry’s to Derek. He caught it in one hand and set it down beside him on the bed. Isaac had lost his seat so he and Erica sat on the floor to eat their pizza, the five of them chatting.

Well, the other four chatted, Stiles still felt a little out of his element and just watched their dynamic, finding it kind of fun how well they knew each other.

They only allowed themselves a few more minutes to eat and chat, then returned to their various positions, getting back to work. Derek grabbed a plate to drop two slices onto it, handing it to Stiles and telling him _not_  to drop anything on his bedding. He brought the rest of the pizza to his desk and they all went silent once more.

It was almost eleven when Isaac grunted that he was done for the night and he started gathering up his things. Erica had fallen asleep at some point and Boyd had to poke her awake. They all decided it was late enough, and to call it a night, waving at each other before they headed out.

Stiles was the last one to leave, taking his time gathering his things, and when he climbed off the bed, Derek stood, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Shifting his weight awkwardly, Stiles said, “Thanks. You know, for letting me hang out here. It helped.”

“Studying in groups always helps,” he agreed. “You’re welcome to come back until you’re done your exams. We usually always convene in my room.”

“Thanks, but I’m done on the twentieth, so you’ll all be done way before then.”

“That’s okay, you can come anyway, we’re used to it.” Stiles frowned and Derek shrugged. “Solidarity. We started this in first year. We all study together during exams, and every time someone finishes their batch, we still convene together, but those who are done just read a book or watch something on their tablet or whatever. That way you’re not alone while you study.” He eyed Stiles briefly. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. But the door’s open if you change your mind.”

Stiles nodded once, muttered another thanks, then left the room. He felt weird when he was around Derek, but he knew it was just because he knew his secret. And because he had a crush on him that he didn’t feel comfortable pursuing.

He didn’t _like_  feeling weird. He wanted to go back to just being himself. Or, as much of himself as he could comfortably be in front of other people. But then... fully himself in front of Derek? He didn’t know, something to think about when he wasn’t busy studying for exams.

Heading back to his room, he unlocked his door and pushed it open, disappearing inside and sighing, rubbing his face with one hand.

He probably should’ve gone to a school somewhere else after all. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about his secret getting back to his dad.

Stiles was tired of keeping secrets.

* * *

“So Stiles is pretty cool,” Isaac said, grabbing at the last fruit cup that Derek had been going for. Derek punched him in the arm and stole it back off his tray.

“Yeah, he’s good people,” he agreed, ignoring Isaac’s whining over his injury. Served the attempted thief right.

“He’s really smart, too,” Boyd cut in, wandering after them even though he was done getting what he wanted for dinner. “He’s in two third year courses this semester, and two second year courses. Really, the only course he’s in first year for right now is the mandatory English course. Guy’s pretty impressive.”

“Yeah, he seems fun. We should adopt him.” Isaac grinned. “He can be our kid. Our dorm baby.”

“I think he’d take offense to being called a dorm baby,” Derek informed him, grabbing for a drink and then heading to the checkout. Erica was already waiting in line and Derek just cut in front of her, grinning at her when she slapped him hard in the back.

“Any news on your mystery man?” Isaac asked, getting in line behind Boyd at the neighbouring till. “You haven’t been whining about him lately. And I haven’t seen any naked men gift-wrapped outside your door, so I’m guessing not.”

“Nope,” Derek replied. “Guess the guy wasn’t into me. It’s fine, Isaac. He just wanted to have a good time at the party, it’s not a big deal.”

“You are gonna die _alone_  with an attitude like that,” Isaac informed him.

Derek just shrugged in response, moving forward when the cashier beckoned him. He’d been trying really hard not to talk about the Halloween party the past few days. Ever since finding out about Stiles, he was determined to keep his secret no matter what. He trusted his friends, but he’d promised he wouldn’t say anything, and he didn’t want one of them to accidentally blab to the wrong person. If this got out because of Derek, he would be devastated.

And things had been going well with Stiles. He’d come by to study three times the past week, and he was getting a bit more open with each visit. Derek knew he was usually loud and boisterous, because he saw him around with his friend Scott, and with Hayden, but he seemed like he was unsure around Derek. Like he still didn’t know how to be himself.

It looked like he was slowly getting more comfortable, and that was really nice. Derek was glad he felt open enough to just let loose. It wasn’t like he had a sign on his forehead that said “I’m gay,” so really, he could be loud and boisterous and his friends weren’t going to know anything.

Though Derek had noticed Boyd watching him every now and then, probably because Derek stared at Stiles a bit more than he should.

It was just _hard_  not to, because Stiles was fun, and attractive, and a _great_  kisser, and Derek liked watching him. He liked the way Stiles moved. He liked how he always chewed on his pens, and how he got excited when he and Boyd talked about Marvel movies, and how fucking _smart_  he was.

Derek really liked him. But he would never do anything about it, because Stiles wasn’t comfortable with that, and he respected that.

“Speaking of our dorm baby,” Isaac said when he went through the line, slapping Derek in the chest and hurrying towards a table.

Derek looked over and saw Scott and Stiles sitting at the end of one of the large dining tables. It looked like they were having a very heated discussion, there were a few flailing limbs on the Stiles side.

“Come on, let’s go save Stiles before Isaac and Erica embarrasses him to death,” Boyd said with a sigh, Erica already halfway there, likely to join Isaac in tormenting their new friend.

Erica hip-checked Isaac out of the way before he could sit down beside Stiles and stole the seat, leaning over and grabbing Stiles’ head in both hands before yanking him closer and giving him a wet kiss on the cheek.

He let out a sound of disgust and wiped the spit away with his shirt, Isaac falling down on Erica’s other side.

“Stop traumatizing the freshmen,” Boyd insisted, sitting down beside Scott. Derek took his other side, trying not to think about how far he was from Stiles. “Sorry they hijacked your dinner,” Boyd said to Stiles, then turned to Scott. “You’re Scott, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Boyd. I’m an RA on the first floor.”

“I know,” Scott said with a smile, motioning Stiles. “He talks about you a lot. Says you’re helping him with gearing up to be an RA.”

“Stiles would make an _amazing_  RA,” Erica agreed, reaching over to pinch his cheek. He batted her hand away, scowling at her.

“How did studying in silence with you make this happen?” Stiles demanded, still trying to bat at her since she was attempting to get past his defence to ruffle his hair.

“We stop and chat during said studying?” Derek asked with a fond smile. “It’s too late, Erica and Isaac like you, you’re stuck with them now. Good luck.”

“Great,” Stiles muttered.

“You’re our dorm baby,” Isaac informed him.

Stiles sputtered. “I’m your _what_?”

“Our dorm baby. Respect your elders, eat your vegetables, do your homework.” Isaac grinned.

Derek rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help smiling. Stiles looked really surprised, but not unhappy. This was good for him, and Derek hoped that he felt more comfortable as time passed having four RAs who would have his back.

They chatted about exams over dinner, Isaac and Scott hitting it off when they realized they were heading in the same direction career-wise. They seemed to be having a good time, but Derek noticed Isaac didn’t invite Scott to their study sessions.

Not that he would’ve minded, but it was kind of nice that his friends really liked Stiles and were trying to include him. Scott seemed to have other friends around campus that he talked about, but Stiles never really mentioned anyone other than Scott and Hayden—who didn’t really count.

They finished up with dinner, and Scott said he was heading to the library to study. Stiles waved him off and went back to the dorm with the fourth years. When he tried to turn off on the second floor, Isaac wrapped an arm around his shoulders and dragged him up to the fourth floor.

“I have to study, I have an exam tomorrow,” Stiles insisted.

“So do I,” Isaac informed him. “But we’ve been studying all day, and we are going to take a break and watch a movie, and _then_  study some more. You will burn out that smart little brain of yours.”

Stiles sighed explosively, but didn’t fight him on it and they headed up to Derek’s floor. He motioned the common room when they passed it, since it was empty and having five people on his bed would get a little tight. The others disappeared into it while Derek went to grab his laptop.

He didn’t know what movies to bring out, but Boyd and Stiles had talked about _Star Wars_ a few times, and he was pretty sure they were comfort movies for Stiles, so he figured that was a good call. He didn’t have the first six, since they were back home, but he had seven and eight on his Itunes so he supposed they could watch that.

Grabbing an HDMI cable, he headed back for the common room and went about setting everything up while the others chatted. Once it was ready, he started _Episode VII_ and turned to sit down.

The only available seat was beside Stiles. He looked uncomfortable, but Derek knew if he made a big deal out of it, his friends would definitely notice and realize something was going on. So he just walked over and fell down in the empty seat, leaning heavily into Isaac and grinning when his friend whined about being crushed.

Stiles relaxed the longer the movie played, and every now and then when something exciting would happen, he would let out loud exclamations and slap one hand against Derek’s chest in excitement. He was particularly happy to announce to the room at large that the guard who released Rey was Daniel Craig, which Derek honestly hadn’t known.

A few people joined them when they walked by and noticed the movie playing, but that meant they all got crushed against each other. Erica and Boyd were fine, since she just ended up in his lap, but Derek was extremely aware of the length of Stiles’ body being pressed up against his. Thankfully, Stiles seemed too distracted by the movie to think too much on it, and he hoped he felt this mellow once the screen went black.

It got loud by the end of the movie, the room having around twelve people in it all speaking excitedly and cheering at various points. Derek was pretty sure none of them really heard the dialogue anymore by the end, and they all booed when the movie was over, the credits rolling. Someone even threw some gummy bears at the TV.

“You’re picking those up,” Derek informed the guy who’d done it. “We’re not going to have roaches on my floor.”

“Says the guy who has chocolate wrappers all over his bed,” Isaac teased.

“Those are your fault, and if I get roaches, I’m trading rooms with you.” Derek stood with a groan, having to really work at it to get out from between Isaac and Stiles. He closed his laptop, and told everyone the party was over and it was back to studying. Most of the room groaned and took their leave, his friends standing and stretching. Isaac shoved Stiles to have him go and get his books, and the rest of them retired back to Derek’s room.

They all still had at least one exam each, but Stiles still had two. The others were all fine with following their usual solidarity with him around, so by the following evening, only Stiles and Boyd would still be actively studying.

“We should do something before we head out,” Erica said, hanging off Boyd like she always was. “Like a movie night, just the five of us.”

“Five?” Derek asked with a small smile.

“Stiles is officially one of us, so yes, five. That a problem?”

“No. No problem.” He was thrilled his friends liked Stiles. The guy really needed some good, solid friends and Erica, Boyd and Isaac were the best.

“I think his last exam is the twentieth, though,” Boyd entered the room after Derek, moving to take his usual spot on the floor. “Aren’t you gone the eighteenth?”

“Oh, shoot.” Erica pouted, crossing her arms and tapping one foot. “Well, how about when we’re back, then? When are you back?” She asked Isaac.

“The fourth.”

“The third,” Derek said before she bothered asking him.

“Perfect. I’m also back the third. We’ll plan for a movie night on the fourth, then, when we’re all back. Something fun. We can order pizza again.”

“I’m down.” Boyd was on his stomach on the floor already, flipping through one of his textbooks.

“It’s decided then. Perfect.” Erica fell down onto Boyd’s back, her boyfriend letting out a grunt but saying nothing.

Stiles showed up a minute or so later, taking his usual spot on the bed with Isaac. The five of them were silent while they studied, and Derek glanced over his shoulder at Stiles, who was frowning down at his book while chewing on his pen.

He was fucking adorable. Derek really wished things had turned out differently.

* * *

Stiles let out a loud, pitiful groan at the incessant knocking on his bedroom door, mumbling sleepily for whoever it was to drop dead and _go away_. He had no idea who it was, but he knew it was definitely _not_  morning yet, and it was later than one in the morning, because that was when he’d finally dragged himself up to his room to go to sleep.

He, Boyd and Scott had spent the evening playing _Bioshock_ together. It was Boyd’s console, so he was the one playing, and Stiles and Scott got to be backseat players with Stiles constantly yelling for him to pick up all the various things that Boyd seemed _not to see_ , and Scott insisting on which directions to go in. He always inevitably got Boyd killed, so Boyd stopped listening to him an hour in.

Probably for the best, they never would’ve made it as far as they did if he’d kept listening to Scott.

They’d all retired around one in the morning, and Stiles _knew_  he’d barely slept, so whoever was knocking on his door had to fucking _leave_!

“I won’t stop until you open up!”

Stiles groaned loudly, and it took his brain a few seconds to recognize who it was. Frowning, though still grumpy, he lifted his head to squint in the darkness towards his door.

“Erica?”

“Open the door, Stiles.”

“I’m sleeping.”

“I’m not leaving until you open the door!”

Letting out another loud whine, he rolled off his bed, stumbling slightly because it was higher than a normal bed to allow storage beneath it, and wandered over to his door, wrenching it open and glaring out at her.

“What?” he demanded.

“Come on,” she said with a grin, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him out of his room. She grabbed his keys from the adhesive hook he had by his door and then locked up his room before dragging him towards the stairs.

“What time is it?” he whined.

“Two-thirty.”

“I was sleeping.”

“You’ll sleep some more in a minute, stop whining.”

Stiles just let her drag him up the stairs by the front of his shirt, exiting on the fourth floor. He realized Derek was back, by now. Apparently his flight was landing around one, and Stiles could only assume he and Erica had gotten back around the same time.

She pushed open Derek’s door and Stiles found a mound of blankets all over his floor. Boyd was already curled on his side at the edge, snoring, and Derek was sitting in his desk chair looking exhausted.

“Ta-dah! Sleepover! Isaac is gonna be jealous he missed out.”

“What?” Stiles asked, still mostly asleep.

“Don’t bother trying to argue,” Derek said, sounding as exhausted as Stiles felt. “You won’t win. Erica missed everyone and wants to have a sleepover.”

Stiles suddenly felt instantly awake, eyes going from Derek, to the mound of blankets, and back to Derek. This was a bad idea. He couldn’t sleep here with them, with _Derek_! No way, no fucking way!

“Erica, I’m not comfortable with this,” he insisted, even as she dragged him further into the room and shut and locked Derek’s door. “I don’t like—I’m not really comfortable being this close to people.”

“Don’t be a wet blanket,” she insisted. “Just sleep on the bed if you can’t stand to touch us, but you’re staying.”

“It’s Derek’s bed,” he argued.

“It’s fine,” Derek insisted, getting to his feet and rubbing at his face. “I don’t care where I sleep as long as I get to _sleep_.”

“Problem solved. Into bed, dorm baby.”

“Stop calling me that,” he insisted, but obediently moved to the bed.

It felt weird crawling up onto it. He’d been on Derek’s bed before, numerous times, even. But it was different when he was _sleeping_  in it. It felt weird, and he glanced at Derek again to make sure he was actually okay with it.

That had been a mistake because Derek was in the process of pulling his shirt off and Stiles stared at his fucking toned chest, the patch of chest hair, his muscled arms, oh God, he was going to fucking pop a boner.

Derek didn’t seem to notice, looking way too tired for this entire ordeal. He just tossed his shirt aside and pulled his jeans off, kicking them away before wandering over to the pile of blankets on the floor. Erica had laid down behind Boyd, spooning him, and Derek fell down behind her, his back to hers and using his arm as a pillow.

“Derek, you forgot the light,” Erica said.

“Fuck the light,” he muttered, sounding half-asleep.

“Derek,” she whined.

“I’ll get the light,” Stiles blurted and crawled quickly to the end of the bed. He practically raced for it and slammed his hand on it, bathing the room in darkness. He didn’t move for a few seconds, heart slamming against his ribs, because Derek was almost fucking _naked_  and sleeping on the _floor_  and Stiles was going to sleep in his _bed_  and why did God hate him?

Stiles was a good person. He’d never done anything wrong in his life, why was God punishing him like this? Wasn’t it bad enough he had a crush on him, why did Derek have to strip like that? He’d have thought he did it on purpose if not for the fact that Derek had very obviously been almost asleep while taking his clothes off.

Taking a few seconds to breathe and get himself back under control, Stiles turned and slowly made his way towards the bed, one hand out in front of himself like an idiot. The room was dark, it was hard to see anything. He finally walked into the end of the bed, hurting his knee a little bit, and climbed back onto it, lying down with his head on Derek’s pillow.

It smelled like Derek. Or whatever Derek smelled like, anyway. His soap or his shampoo or whatever. It just smelled like him. It was nice.

Stiles closed his eyes, trying to sleep, listening to the others breathe on the floor. Boyd was still snoring, but Erica and Derek were quiet, their breathing soft and even. He could still smell Derek. And he knew he was lying on the floor beside him, wearing nothing but boxers.

Rolling onto his side, back towards the end of the bed, that only made the smell worse. His face was in Derek’s pillow, and he smelled so good, and Stiles wanted him so fucking bad. And now he was getting hard, and this was a mistake, and he shouldn’t have let Erica bully him into this.

He lasted only another five minutes before realizing this wasn’t going to work. He couldn’t be here. He didn’t want to sleep in Derek’s bed. He didn’t want to be in the same fucking _room_  as Derek right now.

Sitting up, Stiles winced when the bed creaked and very carefully inched his way down to the bottom, getting back to his feet. He slowly made his way back to the door, hands touching every surface beside it in an attempt to find his keys in the dark, since he didn’t know where Erica had dropped them.

He finally located them on the shelf and winced when they jingled as he picked them up. He waited, listening, but no one behind him moved, and he closed his hand around his keys. Silently pulling open the door, he exited the room quickly to avoid any light getting in, and locked it from the inside. It clicked rather loudly when he pulled it closed, but he just hoped the others were too exhausted to hear it.

Rushing back down the corridor, his skin was crawling at the realization that _anyone_  could’ve just seen him exit Derek’s room in the middle of the night. They didn’t know there were other people in there, what if someone saw him and thought he was in there sucking Derek’s dick or something?

God, what if people thought he was with Derek? Oh fuck, he hadn’t thought this through, what was he thinking just leaving his room _alone_  in the middle of the night?! Shit!

“Don’t panic,” Stiles insisted, struggling to keep his breathing even as he descended the stairs. “Don’t panic. Half the dorm is still gone and it’s two in the morning. Don’t panic. It’s fine.”

He managed to keep it together until he reached his room, unlocking the door and disappearing inside. He dropped his keys on his desk and climbed back into bed, sitting up against the wall and bringing his knees to his chest.

His dick was still half-hard at the memories of Derek, and he tried to push the feelings aside viciously. What the hell was he _doing_? Getting turned on because Derek was getting ready for sleep. Because he was lying in his bed and inhaling his scent. What the fuck?! Derek was just doing normal Derek things, Stiles felt like he was fucking messed up for getting turned on like that.

He pulled his knees tighter to his chest, wrapping one arm around them and his other hand buried in his hair, tugging. He dropped his forehead onto his knees and closed his eyes, trying to think of something else, _anything_  else.

But that didn’t help, either, because now he was thinking about people seeing him leaving Derek’s room in the middle of the night. Shit, if anyone saw him, they would whisper about it, rumours would spread, people would think he was gay. That he was into Derek.

Shit!

And even if they didn’t, Erica and Boyd were going to wonder why he’d left. He’d just fucking walked out after they’d all fallen asleep, they were going to wonder _why_. And even if they didn’t, they would probably think he was a dick. Who fucking walked out of a sleepover?! They were going to be so pissed in the morning, they’d probably think he was rude and inconsiderate. They’d just been trying to have a good time, and he’d just— _left_.

Maybe he could still go back. He could insist he went to the bathroom and got locked out. But then someone might see him knocking on Derek’s door at two in the morning. If no one saw him leave, they would _definitely_  see him arrive. He would have to knock, it would be loud, because he’d have to wake them up.

God dammit, he should’ve just let Erica knock on his door until she went away! Now he was hard thinking about Derek, worried about people seeing him _leave_  Derek’s room, _and_  worried about Boyd and Erica having questions or being pissed at him.

This was the worst. Why had Stiles started hanging out with them _anyway_?! He should’ve just stuck to Scott. Just Scott, and when he wasn’t around, he could just be by himself. He was used to being alone, it used to happen a lot back home, because of Scott and Kira. His dad worked a lot, so he was almost always alone, he should’ve just stayed by himself!

Being lonely was safer than being outed. This was stupid, he was so dumb, why couldn’t he be fucking _normal_?! Why did he have to like guys? Why did he have to like _Derek_?!

His breathing was coming faster again, and he couldn’t handle a panic attack right now. He couldn’t do it, not sitting in the dark in his room by himself.

Hastily fumbling for his phone, he unplugged it from its charger and struggled to calm his breathing. It wasn’t fast enough to be a full blown attack yet, but definitely faster than it should be.

Finding ‘Old Man Stilinski’ in his phone, he hit the contact and brought his shaking hand to his ear, burying his face in his knees again, arm tightening around them.

The phone rang, and rang, and Stiles didn’t know what he’d do if his dad didn’t answer. He didn’t know what would happen. He couldn’t be alone right now, he needed to talk to him, he couldn’t handle this, please God, he needed—

 _“Hello?”_ a sleep-filled voice asked down the line.

“Dad,” Stiles forced out, breathing increasing in speed.

 _“Stiles? Son, are you okay? What’s wrong?”_ his dad still sounded groggy, but his words were alert and it was obvious Stiles had his full attention.

“Dad, I just—I can’t...” He tightened his hand against his leg, digging his nails into his skin and clenching his eyes shut. “I need you. Dad, I _need_  you.” He was so scared. So fucking scared. His dad wouldn’t understand, he would hate him. His dad would leave him like Derek’s dad, and Stiles couldn’t. He needed his dad, he loved him so fucking much. “Dad please, I need you, please don’t leave me.”

_“Stiles, I’m right here. You’re okay, son. Everything’s okay. I’m right here.”_

But for how long? Stiles knew he couldn’t keep this secret forever. He knew that, eventually, it would come out. Either because he said something, or because someone found out, but it would come out.

He wished it wouldn’t. He wanted to bury these feelings down deep, pretend they didn’t exist, stop _feeling_  this way. He wanted to like girls. He wanted to be who his dad thought he was, who Scott thought he was. Maybe he could try again, just _try_. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could like girls.

_“Stiles, I need you to tell me what’s going on. You haven’t had attacks like this in years. What brought this on? What can I do?”_

_Nothing,_ Stiles wanted to scream. _You can’t do anything!_

Because this was Stiles’ fault. Because he’d made out with Derek, like an _idiot_ , and now it was so fucking _real_ , because someone knew, oh God, someone _knew_ , and it never got easier. Every day was harder, like a noose around his neck getting tighter and tighter, and he couldn’t breathe and everything was a mess and why didn’t he just like girls? Why couldn’t he like girls? He just wanted to be normal, he wanted to make it through university, to get a job, buy a house, have a dog. He didn’t care if he was alone, he just couldn’t lose his dad, he needed him, and he didn’t want to disappoint him, or disgust him, and—

Someone knocked on his door and Stiles’ head jerked up.

“Stiles?”

Oh God, no. No, no, no. Why him? Why did it have to be him? God dammit, no, he just wanted to have his panic attack in peace with his dad on the phone and just breathe and forget everything about his feelings and men and he just wanted to go back in time and stop any of this from happening.

 _“Stiles, talk to me,”_ his dad insisted, even as Derek knocked lightly on the door again.

“Stiles, can you open the door?”

“No,” he insisted. He was speaking to his dad. And to Derek. And to himself.

He didn’t want this anymore. He hated this.

 _“Stiles, please,”_ his dad sounded worried. _“Please, just talk to me. What’s going on?”_

“I can’t,” Stiles insisted.

 _“Can’t what?”_ the sheriff asked. _“Stiles do I need to come out there? Because if I need to come out there, you tell me. I’ll do it. If you need to come back, I can buy you a ticket, Scott can get you to the airport.”_

Stiles tugged harder at his hair, struggling to calm his breathing and clenching his eyes more tightly. “Don’t leave me.”

_“I would never. Stiles, I’m right here. Whatever’s wrong right now, I need you to know I’m right here. You can tell me anything. I promise. I love you.”_

“I love you, dad,” he insisted, a hint of desperation in his voice. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll be better. I’ll do whatever I can, I promise. I’ll fix this.”

_“Fix what? Stiles, I need you to talk to me. You know you can talk to me.”_

_I can’t,_ Stiles insisted, but he didn’t want to say that aloud. Not right now. Not when his dad was so fucking worried. Instead, he said, “Can you just stay on the phone with me?”

_“Sure, kiddo. I can stay on the phone with you. Why don’t we talk about something mundane? Tell me about that last hero movie you watched. The one with the man who dresses like a cat.”_

Stiles let out a small, involuntary laugh, sniffing and wiping at his nose. “You mean _Black Panther_?”

_“Is that what he’s called? Ridiculous name for a superhero.”_

Stiles laughed again, struggling to get himself back under control. He obediently started talking to his dad about the movie, the two of them occasionally arguing over certain points, but by the time he was done, his dad sounded like he might check it out, if only because Stiles had made Shuri sound as amazing as she truly was.

They were on the phone for a long time, but Stiles felt a lot calmer afterwards. He still wasn’t okay, and probably wouldn’t _ever_  be okay, but he felt better, at least. His dad triple-checked that he was actually okay before he finally let Stiles hang up.

_“I love you, Stiles.”_

“I love you too, dad. I’ll call you tomorrow. Sorry I woke you up.”

_“I don’t care about that. You need me, you call me, understand?”_

“Sure, pops. Thanks. Night.”

_“Good night, Stiles.”_

He ended the call and sighed, letting his phone fall back to his bed and resting his head against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. He felt calmer, but didn’t think he’d be able to get any more sleep, though he would try. Just when he’d shifted to lie down, he froze when he heard a soft knock at his door, eyes shooting to it.

“Stiles?”

Derek was still there.

Derek was still _there_!

Stiles had assumed he’d left, because he’d been quiet since Stiles had told him he wouldn’t open the door, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t left. He’d fucking _waited_.

“Stiles, can you please open the door?”

 _No,_ he wanted to shout, and then bury himself under his covers. No he _didn’t_ want to open the fucking door, because Derek was _there_ , and he was almost _naked_ and he made Stiles _feel things_!

Because it wasn’t just that Derek was attractive. It was that he was attractive and _nice_ , and understanding, and _supportive_ , and fucking _perfect_  and Stiles didn’t know how to deal with that.

He _didn’t_ want to open the door, no fucking _thank you_!

But he did anyway.

Stiles climbed out of bed, walking slowly to his door. He put his hand on the lock, hesitated, then unlocked it and pulled open his door, immediately looking up into Derek’s face so he wouldn’t have to stare at his perfect body.

He wouldn’t have managed it anyway, because Derek was wearing a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. He looked exhausted, and tired, and _worried_ , but he was still there, standing outside Stiles’ door.

“Are you okay?” he asked, making no move to step closer.

“Yeah,” he insisted, waving one hand and trying to play off what had just happened. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Derek gave him a look and Stiles shifted his gaze away, shrugging one shoulder.

“I’m fine _now_. It’s nothing.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Kind of. Stiles _kind of_ wanted to talk about it. But he didn’t know how to do that, because it was the middle of the night, and people might see Derek enter his room, and what would they think? How weird would that be?!

“Stiles,” Derek said, forcing his gaze back to him. “It’s not weird. I’m your RA. You had a panic attack. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Stiles reached up and started scratching at his neck, leaving behind angry red lines. He dug his nails into the sensitive skin, trying to ground himself, trying to think rationally. Derek was right. It wasn’t weird. He was just looking out for one of the students in his dorm. He was an RA. Stiles had panic attacks. It was normal, it was fine. No one could think anything weird.

It took everything he had in him to take a step back and open the door wider.

Derek stepped into the room, shutting it firmly behind him, then carefully reached out one hand and took Stiles’ wrist, tugging it away from his neck. His eyes searched his face carefully, like he could read everything that was bothering him just by staring hard enough.

His hand felt like fire around Stiles’ wrist, and he wanted him to let go, but he wanted him to hold on forever.

After a second, a minute, a day, an eternity, Derek released him and motioned the bed. Stiles turned away from him and obediently went to sit on it, Derek turning his desk chair around and taking a seat. He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs and hands clasped together between his knees, watching Stiles.

For a long moment, they were both silent, Stiles staring down at his phone. He kept tapping the screen to wake it back up, and would let it go dark again before tapping it once more.

“I know you don’t know how to talk to me,” Derek said quietly. “Because you’ve never had someone there for you like this before. It took a long time for me, too. But you can tell me anything, Stiles. I just want you to be okay. Because what I heard just now doesn’t sound like someone who’s okay, and I’m worried about you.”

“It’s nothing,” he insisted, still not looking at Derek. “I just got scared about my dad, that’s all.”

“But there was a lead up to it,” Derek insisted. “Stiles, I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me. I can only do so much for you. I know you’re scared, but I just want to help.”

Stiles’ heart was pounding in his chest, and he kept his eyes on his phone. He couldn’t look at Derek right now, because he looked so worried, and like he just wanted Stiles to be okay, but Stiles wasn’t okay, and he felt like he never would be, at this rate.

“Something happened,” Stiles finally muttered.

“Upstairs?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said. He stared exceptionally hard at his phone and forced out, “You took off your clothes.”

Derek was silent for a moment, and then let out a slow breath. Stiles saw him rubbing his face with both hands out of the corner of his eye.

“Jesus, Stiles, I didn’t—I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I was just tired, and I wanted to sleep, and I usually sleep in my boxers, and I didn’t... I didn’t _think_. I’m sorry.”

“It’s your room,” Stiles muttered, shrugging one shoulder. “You can do what you want.”

“Is that why you left?”

Stiles winced. “Your bed smells like you.”

“I’m really sorry, Stiles. I promise that wasn’t on purpose. Erica gets like this sometimes, she didn’t mean anything by it, and I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve been more conscious of my surroundings and how you would feel about that.”

He shrugged one shoulder again, resolutely not looking at him.

It was just weird. Stiles got turned on, of course he did. He watched porn, he fantasized about people, but he’d never actually looked at someone he _knew_  and gotten a boner before. He had literally watched Derek pull his clothes off so he could go to sleep and gotten hard. Stiles felt like it was weird, and gross, and he felt _wrong_.

“You know it’s normal, right?” Derek asked, as if reading his mind. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You were getting ready for bed, and I got hard,” Stiles snapped, embarrassed and ashamed. “How is that not wrong?”

“You got turned on because you find me attractive, there’s nothing wrong with that. I basically stripped in front of you, really, that was my own fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Stiles still felt gross about it. He shouldn’t have been that turned on looking at Derek yank his clothes off like that. And it seemed like Derek knew he wasn’t going to win this fight because he sighed and raked one hand through his hair.

“Are you going to be okay tonight?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I’ll be fine.”

“You want to stay here, or come back upstairs?”

His heart jerked weirdly in his chest at those words, and a part of him wanted to go back upstairs. Maybe Boyd and Erica didn’t know he’d left. Maybe it could be like nothing had happened, like he’d been there the whole time.

But he couldn’t go back up. Because someone might see him walk into Derek’s room. And he would be in his bed, smelling his scent, knowing he was sleeping on the floor beside him. He already had enough anxiety with Derek having to _leave_  his room, there was no fucking way he could go back to the fourth floor.

“I want to stay here,” he said.

“Okay.” Derek stood, offering him a smile. “I’m gonna head to bed. We’ll do breakfast in the morning with Boyd and Erica, okay? And your friend Scott. Just come up and knock on my door if it’s getting late and you’re hungry, okay?”

Stiles nodded and Derek nodded back. He wished him a good night, then left his room, locking the door behind himself. Stiles listened to him walk away, and heard the stairwell door open, then shut.

Then everything was silent.

Stiles wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his face in them, feeling like shit.

Why did Derek have to be so fucking _perfect_?

* * *

It was almost noon.

It was almost noon and Stiles still hadn’t come by.

He, Boyd and Erica were all sitting around chatting about their holidays, but Derek kept getting distracted because it was almost noon and Stiles _still_  hadn’t come by.

But he’d agreed to breakfast, hadn’t he? Or maybe he’d just agreed to get Derek out of his room. Maybe he never wanted to see him again. Maybe he _hated_  him.

Derek couldn’t stop thinking about what Stiles had said. He was such an inconsiderate _asshole_! He was doing everything all fucking wrong with Stiles. He couldn’t believe he’d just started yanking his clothes off like that!

It was habit. He’d had sleepovers with Boyd, Erica and Isaac numerous times since first year. He and Isaac always slept in their boxers. Erica was usually in a tank top and her underwear, though she’d been wearing pants the night before. Boyd slept in sweats. It was just a thing they all did. They were _comfortable_  with each other.

He hadn’t even been thinking. The door was shut, he could _finally_  sleep, and he’d just... taken off his clothes. Like normal. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t considered that Stiles was _right there_ , and confused, and in the fucking _closet_! Shit, even _Erica_  was wearing pants, how was it she’d thought ahead and he hadn’t?

When he’d woken up to the door closing, he’d known immediately it was Stiles leaving. He’d debated just leaving him alone, because he was tired and he was sure it was nothing, but it hadn’t taken long for his conscience to slap him awake and tell him to go and check on him. And hearing him panicking with his dad through the door had _hurt_. And to find out it was _his fault_ had hurt even _more_!

Because apparently Derek was an insensitive dickwad that way. He was two for two on what _not_  to do with a terrified, closeted gay young man.

He should win an award for most inconsiderate RA on the planet.

Erica and Boyd hadn’t said anything when they woke up to Stiles gone. They’d just acted like he hadn’t been there, and Derek figured they assumed he’d left before they woke up. He was glad, if he was honest. He didn’t know what they thought of Stiles’ weird behaviour, but neither of them, or Isaac, had said anything about thinking he was gay, or even bisexual.

Though Boyd _had_  told Derek to stop staring so hard, because he was obviously making Stiles uncomfortable.

Which he knew. But he couldn’t _help it_! Because as much as he wanted to help Stiles, he was also insanely attracted to him, which was making things very complicated for him. But he would _never_  act on his urges, because he’d seen Stiles have enough panic attacks over this and he wasn’t going to be the cause of any more of them.

Three was enough. Or two and a half. Kind of three.

He’d go with three, it made him feel guiltier, which he deserved.

Derek wanted to wait longer, but when noon actually hit, all three of them were getting hungry and he was too worried to go down and knock on Stiles’ door himself, so they stood and started rooting around for their various keys and shoes when someone knocked on his door.

He practically bowled Erica over to get to it, opening it quickly. He realized he was setting himself up for a sore heart if it wasn’t Stiles, but thankfully when he had the door wide enough to see who had knocked, it was him.

He smiled tightly at Derek, offering a small wave. “Scott won’t get up, I’ve been trying for an hour. He said to just leave him in peace, so I’m ditching him. I’m not too late for breakfast, am I?”

“No way, we’re about to head out.” Erica was beside Derek in an instant, yanking on her coat. “Can we go to IHOP? I’m feeling pancakes today, and the caf food is getting old.”

“Sure,” Derek agreed, still staring at Stiles.

Stiles only held his gaze for a few seconds before looking somewhere else, shifting his weight awkwardly. Derek realized he was being creepy and turned back to find his coat. Isaac would be back in a few hours, so they would need to hurry and get there and back. He’d feel abandoned if they weren’t back before he arrived.

“It better not be snowing, I hate snow,” Erica muttered, Derek turning in time to see her pulling up his blinds. She let out a soft hum when she found it wasn’t, and headed back towards the door, Derek rolling his eyes and moving to the window to lower the blinds once more. He hated that she always forgot to lower them, but the dorms facing one another made him always want them down so he didn’t forget they were up and start stripping or something.

His dorm neighbour would be getting a show, and he really didn’t want that.

“We heard you leave yesterday,” Boyd said while heading to the door, and Derek froze while putting on his coat.

He hadn’t realized Erica and Boyd had woken up when Stiles had left the room, they’d been dead to the world when Derek had come back. He’d assumed they had no idea, and they hadn’t said anything to Derek!

He whipped around, seeing Erica and Boyd at the door, but they were blocking Stiles so he had _no idea_ what his face looked like.

“Sorry,” Stiles said, voice a little subdued. “I wasn’t—I just didn’t—”

“Stop,” Erica insisted, and she moved out of the room to wrap an arm around his shoulders, pinching his cheek. “You said you weren’t comfortable. You should never let someone bully you into doing something you’re not comfortable with. And I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. But,” she pointed her finger at him, “don’t ever let it happen again. If we put you in a position you’re not comfortable with, you better say no next time. Even if you have to snap at one of us. Okay? You’re our friend, and we don’t want you to be unhappy or uncomfortable. And I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

Stiles looked so relieved that it physically _hurt_  Derek. He turned away from them, finishing up with his coat, and then patted his pockets for his keys.

The three of them were still wearing sweats, so they were probably going to get cold, but Stiles had changed out into jeans and a hoodie. He joked about being too dressy for breakfast and he and Erica laughed and chatted on their way down the stairs with Boyd and Derek taking up the rear.

They piled into Derek’s car to head to the IHOP, with Boyd in front and Erica and Stiles in the back. Derek actually felt a little bad for the employees, but also so, _so_  thankful for Erica, because she seemed determined to make Stiles happy thinking she’d totally fucked up his night. She was coddling him, and joking with him, and kept hugging him and making him laugh.

It was really nice seeing him laugh. It was nice seeing him be more himself again, less scared and anxious.

They all shared their pancakes, because nobody could decide on what they wanted so they just got four different sets and each had one per set. They were loud, and probably annoying, but they were enjoying themselves and Stiles looked way better when they finally headed back to the dorm.

By the time Isaac showed up, they were all hanging out in the common room playing _Bioshock_  with Stiles’ friend Scott. They hung out for a while longer, Isaac regaling everyone with his holidays and the others letting him know what he’d missed while he was gone.

They went to dinner around seven, mostly because Isaac and Scott were hungry since the other four were still full. Derek managed to snag the seat beside Stiles, and was really relieved when he didn’t tense or get all weird. He even smiled at him, which Derek was thrilled about.

He knew Stiles wasn’t okay, that he was still struggling with what he wanted and what he felt like he needed to be, but every day Stiles smiled like that was a good day in Derek’s book, so he just made sure to be mindful of everything going forward, and would have to do his best to help him as much as he could until the end of the semester.

* * *

“You gotta be joking,” Isaac insisted, throwing a Twizzler at Derek and grinning. “You can’t seriously think I’m gonna believe such a blatant lie.”

“It’s true,” Derek insisted, textbook open in his lap and homework forgotten on his desk while he flipped Isaac off. “There is literally _nothing_  enjoyable about a fucking Twinkie! They’re literally just over-sweet whipped butter encased in a yellow sponge that tastes like it was used to clean a toilet.”

“Twinkies are _amazing_!” Isaac insisted, throwing another Twizzler.

Stiles laughed when Derek tried to catch it in his mouth, but it hit him in the eye instead. Derek threw the Twizzler back and the two of them had a mini throwing war. Stiles thought that was a bad idea, considering Derek’s extreme dislike of roaches and the potential for something to end up being missed later, but he was having too much fun watching them be children to think on it too much.

Boyd and Erica were out on a date, and Scott was in class, so Stiles had come up to bug Derek since he had nothing better to do. Derek and Isaac were doing homework, but they never passed up an opportunity for Stiles to hang out with them, which he appreciated.

It had been almost three weeks since Stiles’ last panic attack, and while he still had a lot of really terrible thoughts, and he called his dad _way_  too often, he felt... better. Not okay, but better. He and Derek tried to have chats every few days in the guise of going to get snacks and movies. Whenever their little group was planning something, Derek would grab Stiles and say they’d get the treats and they would drive out in his car so they could talk.

Derek usually stopped to get ice cream at McDonald’s. He figured it was just something Derek felt helped calm Stiles down. It wasn’t necessarily true, but having something to do while they had uncomfortable conversations helped a little bit.

Not that Derek ever made them uncomfortable, but Stiles didn’t really know how to talk about this stuff. Derek was always really supportive, and every time Stiles insisted there was something wrong with him, or he was fucked up, Derek was quick to insist he was _fine_. That this was perfectly normal. That things were not as black and white as society tried to make them believe.

He reminded Stiles that some people thought Erica and Boyd dating was disgusting, and Stiles had been incredibly confused for a few minutes before he’d realized it was because Boyd was African-American. Erica was like an Aryan princess to racist assholes, with her pale skin and blond hair, and she was dating Boyd.

It hadn’t even crossed Stiles’ mind that anyone would have a problem with it, because first off, it was nobody’s business, and second, it wasn’t hurting anyone. Boyd was just Boyd, he was a human being, he was _nice_ , he kicked ass at video games—even if he _sucked_  with treasures, good Lord. He was an amazing guy, and Stiles really liked him.

But Derek was right. Racism was still a thing. Some people didn’t like him dating Erica. Some people thought Erica was a fucking abomination for even liking Boyd. Some people thought Derek was going to rot in the fiery pits of hell for being bisexual.

“People are assholes,” Derek had reminded him. “Don’t worry about what society says you need to be. Just be who you _want_  to be.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Nothing ever is,” Derek had agreed.

It was weird, having support. Having someone there to rebuff everything that went through Stiles’ head.

He thought he was disgusting and broken. Derek insisted that he wasn’t.

He thought he should just be normal and like girls. Derek insisted that there _was_  no normal and that Stiles was _fine_  exactly as he was, and that he would be miserable if he couldn’t be himself.

He thought everyone was going to abandon and hate him if he ever came out. Derek insisted that the people who loved him would understand and support him, and everyone else wasn’t worth it.

It was a hard mantra to break. He’d spent so many years having to hide this, to pretend, to just _not tell_. It was weird being able to openly talk about it with Derek in his car.

Derek’s car felt like a safe place for him. It had been weeks since Derek had found out his secret, and he hadn’t said anything to anyone. Stiles had gotten turned on watching him undress, and Derek had _apologized_  for not thinking about how Stiles would feel. Every time something happened, Derek was just _there_. With support, an ear, a held out hand. Derek was always there for him, and sometimes it was so overwhelming and Stiles just wanted to cry because he’d never had this before and he didn’t know how he could ever repay him for this.

He hated that he’d made out with Derek during the party, but at the same time, he was so fucking glad he had because in some ways, Derek was kind of saving him. Derek was always there to tell him nothing was wrong with him, that he was perfectly normal, that he was allowed to feel how he felt. It was terrifying, but so liberating, and Stiles just—he fucking appreciated Derek so fucking much.

“You are _wrong_ ,” Isaac insisted, digging a Twinkie out of his mound of sugary treats—seriously, Stiles didn’t know how he wasn’t diabetic—and tossing it to Derek. “Eat it! _Eat it_ , Derek! It is God’s gift to mankind!”

“If God’s gift to mankind is eating a toilet,” Derek muttered, tossing it back.

Isaac just hurled it back at him like he was pitching to a batter. It hit Derek in the face and he scowled.

“Just eat it,” Isaac insisted. “Eat it, the _whole_  thing, and I will _never_  bring it up again if you still don’t like it.”

Derek pointed the wrapped Twinkie at him. “If I eat this, you shut up forever about Twinkies. I mean it, _forever_. Stiles is a witness.”

“I promise,” Isaac agreed, grinning.

Derek glared at him, but he obediently unwrapped the cake and took a massive bite. He immediately made a face, but chewed nonetheless and then shoved the second half into his mouth. Cream oozed from between his lips and he started coughing, likely choking on what he’d shoved into his mouth, turning away and struggling to chew and get the rest down his throat.

Isaac was laughing hysterically beside Stiles, slapping at his knee and insisting Derek was an idiot.

Stiles was too distracted to really hear what he was saying. Derek had turned back to them, cream on his lips. His tongue darted out to lick them clean and he said something to Isaac before taking a sip of his water. Stiles watched his Adam’s apple bob while he swallowed and felt himself getting hot.

Really hot. And Jesus his dick was twitching with interest and oh God Isaac was _right there_ and—

“Whoops! Gotta go,” Isaac said, phone in his hand and hastily beginning to pack up his things, treats included. “My lovely fuck buddy’s out of class and in need of some TLC.”

“Why don’t you just _date_  her?” Derek asked, rolling his eyes.

“She doesn’t believe in relationships, apparently. Her last one ended badly, so I need to just ease my way into it. I mean, we basically already _are_  dating, I think she just doesn’t know that.” Isaac winked at Derek and jumped off the bed. “Later. See you for breakfast.”

“Bye.”

The door slammed shut and Derek rolled his eyes again, turning back to Stiles. The soft smile on his face immediately slid off it.

Stiles had no idea what he looked like, but probably super fucking turned on, and that was so bad. So, so bad, because this was Derek, and Stiles respected him, and he had to _stop_  finding everything about him so fucking hot.

“I should go,” Stiles blurted out, gathering his things quickly and stumbling off the bed.

He’d barely made it to the door, one hand on the handle, when Derek was _right there_ , grabbing his arm to stop him from leaving.

“What happened? Are you okay? You’re all flushed. Are you getting sick?”

Oh God, Derek was so dumb. He was so, so fucking dumb. Stiles wanted to turn around and punch him in his dumb, attractive face.

“I’m fine, I just need to go.”

“Stiles, we’ve talked about this. You need to tell me when there’s something going on, or I can’t help you.”

Derek was so close. God, he was _so fucking close_ and he was so, so fucking _dumb_! Of course Stiles’ face was flushed! He probably looked like a tomato, because Derek had been licking fucking _cream_ off his lips, and he was so fucking _gorgeous_ and Stiles had the _hugest fucking crush on him_!

He turned around to insist that everything was fine, that he was just gonna go, that they didn’t ever spend time alone like this in his room—his car, yes, but never his room. He was totally intending to just toss out some bullshit excuse and leave, but when he turned, Derek was _so close_. He was literally _right there_.

They were almost the same height, Stiles could literally calculate in his head how much distance there was between his lips and Derek’s, how quickly he could close the distance, and God, he remembered. He remembered how Derek tasted that day. How he’d kissed, the feel of his tongue, his hands on his hips. He remembered grinding into him, feeling so fucking _free_  because he was himself, and he could do anything because no one knew. No one knew, and he was safe, and he just wanted that. He wanted it so bad.

He hadn’t meant to do it. He hadn’t meant to lean forward. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what kissing Derek had felt like and he just went for it, closing the distance, crushing his lips against Derek’s.

It was a short kiss. More of a headbutt than anything, Stiles pressing forward and smashing his lips into Derek’s for only a few seconds before pulling back.

And he felt... he felt like he was going to be sick. Because he’d just kissed Derek. Without even asking. Without knowing if that was okay, and if that was allowed, and fuck, what the hell was he _doing_  right now?! Was he stupid?! Derek was just—his support. He was just helping him, this wasn’t anything to him, and Stiles was dumb. He was so, so dumb, and he shouldn’t have done that, and what the hell was _wrong_  with him?!

He turned back to the door, scrambling to get it open so he could get out, so he could fucking run, and run, and never fucking _stop_  running because what was he doing? What was he doing? Jesus shit, _what was he doing_?!

Derek’s hand on his arm tightened and yanked him back around. Stiles let out a startled shout when he was slammed back against the door, books falling from his hand, and then Derek’s mouth was on his again.

One hand was on his face, thumb caressing his cheek softly in a stark contrast to the desperate way Derek was trying to suck all the oxygen out of Stiles’ lungs. His stubble was scratchy against Stiles’ face, and his tongue was in his mouth, and God it was perfect, it was _everything_ , it was exactly what Stiles wanted.

His hands were on Derek’s chest, dragging across his muscles through his shirt and he pushed forward into him, needing more of him, because yes, yes, _yes_! Derek was all hard muscles and sharp edges beneath his palms, and his beard was itchy and perfect, and his mouth, God his mouth, Stiles never wanted to stop kissing him because everything about him was so fucking perfect. He smelled so fucking good, and Stiles wanted more, he wanted everything, he—

Someone knocked on the door and the feeling snapped.

Stiles wrenched his face away from Derek and his heart was in his feet and he felt like this was wrong, everything was wrong, and oh fuck, what was he doing?!

“Stiles. Stiles,” Derek grabbed his face, giving his head one firm shake. “Stiles, it’s okay. You’re okay. Breathe.”

This wasn’t okay. Oh God, this wasn’t okay, nothing was okay, he was making out with Derek, and he could see his face, anyone could see his face, and were his blinds closed? And who had knocked? Did they know? God, had Stiles been making noises? Was he moaning?! Oh fuck, what was he thinking?! Oh God, he had to get out, get out, _get out_!

“Stiles!” Derek gave him another shake. “Stiles, breathe. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Then, louder. “Who is it?”

“Uh, Jeff? From down the hall? I needed to talk to you about someone coming by this weekend.”

“I’m really sorry, can I come by in a minute? I’m helping someone right now. Leave your name and room number on the whiteboard.”

“Okay.”

“Stiles, I need you to breathe,” Derek insisted, still holding his face. “It’s okay. It’s fine.”

Nothing about this was fine!

It _had_  been fine. For like, thirty amazing fucking seconds, but now it was not fine. It was _so_  not fine. Nothing was fine, and he felt like this was wrong, and he shouldn’t be doing this, and he couldn’t kiss Derek, he _shouldn’t_  kiss Derek.

“Stiles.” Derek’s hands were on his shoulders now, and he was pulling him away from the door. “Come on, sit down. Let’s talk, just sit down. It’s okay.”

Stiles stumbled on his way to where Derek was pulling him and sat heavily on Derek’s bed. Derek grabbed his chair and pulled it closer, sitting right up against the bed and putting one hand on Stiles’ knee, searching his face.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” Stiles realized he could still taste Derek on his lips. He wanted so bad to lick them but instead he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and hastily wiped the taste away. “I shouldn’t have done that, that was stupid, and wrong, and I can’t believe I did that.”

“Stiles, it’s okay.”

“It’s _not_  okay!” Stiles insisted, feeling panic beginning to rise in his chest. “It’s _not_  okay, Derek! I’m not—” Stiles exhaled sharply and dug both hands in his hair, tugging hard. “This is wrong. It’s so wrong. I can’t do this.”

“It’s not wrong,” Derek insisted. “Stiles, _nothing_  about this is wrong. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pulled you back like that, I just didn’t want you to leave because I knew you would panic about it, but I just—Stiles, I _really_  like you. I have liked you since the first moment I saw you dancing like an idiot at the Halloween party. And I know that this is hard for you, and that you’re still trying to figure yourself out, and that you’re _scared_ , but please stop thinking something is wrong with you. There is _nothing_  wrong with you. You are perfect exactly as you are.”

Stiles hated feeling like this. He hated being afraid. He wanted Derek so fucking bad, he _needed_  him, and he fucking _loved_  kissing him, but he was just so scared. What if someone found out? What if the others found out? Or Scott? Or fucking Jackson? He wanted Derek, but he didn’t want anyone to know that, not even Derek.

But Derek _did_  know, because Stiles had kissed him, and he fucking _wanted_  him and oh God, this was a mess. This was such a fucking mess.

And now he was crying. Because he wanted this so bad, and he loved Derek, and he didn’t want to hide anymore, but this was too hard, everything was just so fucking hard.

“Stiles, it’s okay,” Derek insisted, voice breaking. “Please. Please, I can’t—please, I just want to help you.”

Stiles leaned forward and grabbed at Derek, hugging him so tightly his arms hurt. Derek was motionless only long enough for the shock to come and go, and then held him tightly, pulling Stiles against him and burying his face in his neck.

“You’re okay, Stiles. I promise, you’re okay. This is okay.”

And God he wanted it. He wanted it so bad. He wanted Derek, he wanted to kiss him, to hold him, to be okay sleeping in a bed with him. He wanted things to just be _easy_. Why couldn’t they be easy? Why were things only easy for straight people? Why was it perfectly fine for a guy and a girl to kiss and be cuddly and love each other without anyone judging them, but the second Stiles looked at a guy in an interested way he was a disgusting abomination?

How was that fair? Who had made those rules? Why did those rules even exist?!

Stiles jerked and tried to pull back from Derek, but he held on tighter as his door slammed open.

Erica was in the middle of saying something, her voice loud and jovial, but she cut off and Stiles tensed.

“What happened? What’s going on?!” She was on the bed beside Stiles instantly, wrapping an arm around him. “Stiles? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Derek, what did you do?!”

“Erica,” Boyd said softly. “Erica, we should go.”

She was silent for a moment. “Stiles, are you okay? Are you okay with Derek? If you need us to stay, we’ll stay, but if you want us to go, we’ll leave. Are you okay?”

He was too scared to answer. Did they know? Fuck, Boyd _had_  to know. Stiles was clinging to Derek so tightly, he _had_  to know something was going on between them. Oh God, they knew, they fucking _knew_  and—

“Stiles,” Derek said softly into his neck. “It’s okay. If you want them to stay, just tell them to stay.”

He didn’t. He didn’t want them to stay, because the longer they stayed, the more they could see, and the higher the chances that they would know, and Boyd totally knew, and Erica was going to know, and they would tell Isaac, and then Scott, and Scott would know and his dad would find out, and he would hate him.

He would hate him, he would disown him, he would call him disgusting and ask what he’d done to deserve a son like him and he would lose him and no, no, no.

Stiles shook his head, holding Derek tighter, not wanting to look up. Not wanting to see them.

Because they knew. They _had_  to know. How could they not? He was so obvious. He was so fucking _obvious_.

“Okay.” Erica kissed his temple where she could reach it. “Okay. We’ll be in Boyd’s room. Come down later, okay? If Derek did something, we’ll kick his ass.”

“Erica, let’s go.”

Stiles felt her pull away from him and the bed shifted as she stood. There was a soft click as the lock engaged, and then the door closed loudly when they left the room.

“Oh God they know,” Stiles breathed the second it closed behind them, clinging to Derek more tightly. “They know, they know, oh God, they’ll tell Isaac, and Scott, and—”

“Hey, listen to me.” Derek turned his head so his lips were pressed against Stiles’ temple, but he kept his tight hold on him. “Listen to me. They don’t know anything. They don’t. All they know is you’re upset, and you need support. That’s it. No one knows anything. It’s not printed on your forehead. You’re okay.”

“Derek they can’t know! Please, they can’t know!”

“Stiles, they don’t. I promise, they don’t know. You’re okay. Everything is okay.”

Nothing was okay.

Nothing was ever going to fucking be okay again.

* * *

Derek was mentally and physically exhausted. He felt this exhausted, so he couldn’t even begin to imagine how Stiles felt, because Derek had only been _supporting_  him, Stiles was the one having the breakdown.

It had taken almost two hours for him to calm Stiles down, and even then, it was only just. Every time he would start to get himself back under control, something would trigger him again and he would start panicking about his dad finding out.

Derek hated how scared he was. Stiles’ worries about people finding out always boiled down to his dad finding out. He was never scared of Scott knowing the truth, except it meant Scott could tell his dad. Everything centred around his father, and Derek wished there was a way for him to just _know_  if he’d be okay with it. Like, look in a crystal ball and determine if his dad would be okay, or if he would be a dick like Derek’s dad.

It occurred to him that this was partly the problem. Derek had admitted his dad had abandoned him over this, and while it still hurt every day to know his dad wanted nothing to do with him, Derek had other support in his family. His sisters and his mom.

Stiles only had his dad, and it was obvious he meant the world to him. He didn’t care what others thought, he cared about what his dad thought.

Derek so wished he could help him with that. He just wanted Stiles to be okay. He didn’t want him to panic every time he did something that he wanted. Because it was obvious Stiles so badly wanted to kiss him. It was so obvious Stiles was interested in him, that Stiles wanted to move forward with this, _be_  with him, but he was just so fucking scared.

And Derek didn’t know what to do. Because he wanted to give him space, but he also wanted to pursue this, and it was so fucking hard trying to find the balance. Stiles wanted him but was too scared to do anything about it, and Derek wanted him but needed to be sure Stiles was _okay_.

When he finally got Stiles to a headspace where he was—not _okay_ , but _calm_ , he shifted from the chair onto the bed, sitting beside him and rubbing at his closest arm in a comforting fashion. Derek’s mother always did that to him when he was upset, and it helped a lot, so he was trying to find things that would calm Stiles down.

Stiles exhaled slowly, breath shaky and cleared his throat, sniffing and wiping both hands over his eyes. He cleared his throat again, obviously trying to compose himself, and then used the collar of his shirt to pull it up over his face and wipe at the wetness on his cheeks.

“I don’t want you to be alone tonight,” Derek told him, still rubbing at his arm. “I don’t care who it’s with, whether it’s Scott, or Hayden, or even Boyd, but I need you to stay with someone tonight.”

“I’m not gonna do anything stupid,” Stiles insisted, voice rough and eyes red.

“The fact that you knew where my mind went makes me more determined to ensure you’re not alone.” Derek sighed. “I feel like I’m doing this all wrong. I feel like all I keep doing is making you feel worse.”

“No,” Stiles said softly, “you don’t. You help. I just—Everything is just so fucking _hard_. And it’s not _fair_.”

“No,” Derek agreed. “It’s not.”

Stiles sniffed and nodded, looking down at his hands and picking at a hangnail. “Sorry I just—I shouldn’t have just kissed you like that.”

“I’m glad you did.” Derek shifted his arm to wrap it around Stiles’ shoulders, pulling him into his side. “I’ve wanted to kiss you again since I found out who you were. I’m glad you did it.”

Stiles let out a harsh breath, swallowing hard. “I really wanted to kiss you. I like kissing you.”

Derek smiled a little. “I like kissing you, too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” Derek pulled him tighter into his side. “I wish I could make this easier for you, but I can’t.”

He wished he could just insist Stiles tell his dad. All of his agony stemmed from his dad finding out, and it would all just go away once his dad knew. But Derek knew it wasn’t that simple. He’d taken so long to work up the courage to tell his family, and every new person he told was like an iron-tight grip around his heart, squeezing until he felt like he couldn’t breathe. It was such a relief every time he received words of support, every person who said they didn’t care.

And then he’d told his dad, and the squeezing had never left. It was always there, that tight feeling of not being wanted, of being wrong, of being hated. And he knew for Stiles right now, he was feeling that same thing, the tight squeezing of his heart in his chest, and unlike Derek, it would never loosen. His dad’s reaction made the tightness stick around, but his mom and sisters helped pull at the iron around his heart and yank it loose. It was always there, but not quite as tight.

For Stiles, if he told his father, and things went badly, the tightness would be there forever. He didn’t have anyone else he seemed to care about as much as his dad, and Derek was honestly worried Stiles wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his dad rejected him.

He was _scared_  Stiles was legitimately going to do something stupid. Because if his dad rejected him, that seemed like it would be the end of his world.

“I really like you,” Stiles said quietly, almost like he was hoping Derek wouldn’t hear him.

“I really like you, too, Stiles.” He pressed his lips to his temple, pulling him tighter into his side. “I don’t want to tell you what to do, but I know how important this secret is. I’m okay with taking a step back and just keeping my distance, but I’m also okay with us doing this more often. The kissing, I mean. I’d like to think you don’t find it that horrible that you’ll cry afterwards every time.”

Stiles let out a wet-sounding laugh at that, and Derek smiled. At least he’d gotten him to laugh.

“I’m okay with stealing moments when we can if that’s what you want. I don’t mind keeping this secret, because this is yours. You decide when people know. And I’m okay with being another piece of your secret, if that’s what you need.”

“It’s not fair.”

“I know.”

“I mean to you.”

Derek smiled. “I’ve had my fair share of secrets, Stiles. I’m fine being one of yours if it’s what you need. I want you to feel like you can be yourself with me. And I like kissing you, remember? No complaints here.”

He really hoped he wasn’t being pushy, he just wanted Stiles to understand that they could do this if that was what he wanted. Derek didn’t need to tell anyone he was with someone, it was nobody’s business anyway. He just wanted to give Stiles something that he _could_  give him.

Stiles was silent for a long moment, and Derek started rubbing at his opposite arm now, resting his cheek on his head and staring at the opposite wall.

Then, finally, he said, “Are you sure?”

Derek smiled. “Yeah, Stiles. I’m sure.”

He exhaled slowly again, breath shaky. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Derek laughed. “Okay, then. Okay it is.”

They were silent for a moment before Stiles asked, “Hey Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you again?”

Derek smiled. “Yeah, Stiles. You can kiss me whenever you want.”

It took him a few minutes to move, like he still wasn’t sure this was a good idea. Derek just waited for him to decide whether or not he wanted to do it. Eventually, Stiles shifted away from him, Derek pulling his arm back, and he turned to face him. His eyes were still red and it was obvious he’d been crying recently, but he was so fucking gorgeous, Derek could hardly stand it.

He didn’t know how Stiles wasn’t aware of how fucking perfect he was.

Stiles sat there staring at him for a long while before he finally reached out one hand, hesitating before touching Derek’s stubbled cheek. He ran his palm against it, then dragged his nails through it, letting out a slow breath while he watched his own fingers.

Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips almost hesitantly to Derek’s.

It took a conscious effort for Derek not to reach up and grab at Stiles’ face again, but he managed to resist the temptation, curling his hands into fists and just letting Stiles take control. He already knew Stiles was a good kisser, and that this wasn’t his first time kissing someone, but it was definitely the first time he’d ever consciously chosen to kiss someone who knew his secret.

Derek didn’t count the headbutt from earlier.

Stiles didn’t try to deepen the kiss, he just pressed his lips lightly against Derek’s, and then eventually trapped Derek’s bottom one between his before he pulled away. His hand was still on Derek’s face, nails scratching at his stubble.

“Okay?” Derek asked.

Stiles exhaled shakily and nodded. “Yeah. I like your beard.”

“I like my beard, too,” Derek told him with a smile.

Stiles managed a small laugh.

“Come on, we should get some sleep.” Derek leaned forward to press his lips to Stiles’ forehead before pulling away and standing. “How do you want to do this, because you’re not sleeping alone tonight. Do you want to stay with Scott? Or Boyd?”

Stiles looked uncomfortable, rubbing at one of his arms and scowling at the floor. Derek wasn’t going to let him insist he was fine on his own, he was going to fucking tie him to a bed and have Boyd sleep on the floor, if he had to.

“It’ll be weird if I just stay with Boyd, and I’m not—I don’t want Scott to know about this. He might tell my dad, and he’s worried enough about me, and I just...” Stiles winced. “Do you think we could do another sleepover thing? With Erica and Boyd? It’s less weird that way.”

“Sure.” Derek went to grab his phone off his desk where it was charging. “We can do it in his room, if you want.”

“It’s fine here,” he said softly. “It’s not—I’m okay with your bed this time.”

Derek smiled to himself, back to Stiles, and just texted the group chat to ask Boyd to come up with some blankets.

 **[Boyd]**  
Sure. How many?

 **[Derek]**  
enough for all of us

 **[Isaac]**  
sleepover? i better be invited!

 **[Derek]**  
yeah, sleepover

 **[Erica]**  
is stiles ok?

 **[Isaac]**  
is stiles ok what? why wouldnt stiles be ok?  
 **[Isaac]**  
what happened?

 **[Boyd]**  
We’ll be up in a minute.

Derek set his phone back down and went to unlock his door. He opened it and saw the note on his whiteboard, having forgotten about Jeff who needed to speak to him. He checked the time, and though it was almost half-past ten, it was still early enough to drop by.

He didn’t want to leave Stiles alone, so he waited for Boyd to show up with Erica suspiciously missing. He asked him to head down with Stiles to get his blankets and so he could get ready for bed. Boyd nodded, but before he walked into the room, Derek stopped him.

“Don’t leave him alone in his room. Make him take his stuff and he can change in the bathroom if he has to, but don’t leave him alone.”

Boyd stared at him intently but eventually nodded and disappeared through the door. Derek headed down the corridor to Jeff’s room and knocked.

It was a short conversation, the guy’s brother was coming into town for a week and would be staying with him. He was in a double and his roommate was aware, but Derek told him he’d have to speak to his roommate before he approved it so he asked for him to drop by tomorrow.

By the time he was heading back down the corridor, Erica was heading for his room with her arms full of blankets. She headed right in, since Boyd hadn’t closed the door, and Derek followed her, watching her dump everything in the middle of the room.

She turned back to Derek, crossing her arms and shifting her weight.

“Is he okay?”

Derek sighed and rubbed a hand across his mouth. “Yeah, he’s just—he’s going through something right now. I’m just worried about him, don’t want him to be alone with his thoughts.”

Erica nodded, letting out a small sigh. “Isaac’s on his way. I told him he didn’t have to come, but he wants to.”

“He cares about his dorm baby,” Derek said with a small laugh. Erica smiled, but he could tell she was worried.

“Is he actually okay, Derek?”

“He will be. In time. It’s just a lot right now, he’s just...” He trailed off and sighed. “It’s personal. He doesn’t want to share with anyone.”

“Hey, I get it.” She raised both hands in surrender. “It’s okay. As long as he’s okay.”

“Eventually.”

They heard the stairwell door open and Derek moved aside so Boyd and Stiles could come back in. Boyd dumped Stiles’ blankets on Derek’s bed and Stiles threw his pillow on top, crawling into it and wrapping himself in them until he looked like a burrito.

Erica and Boyd were already dressed for bed, so Derek took his things and went to the bathroom, determined not to make the same mistake twice. He changed out and brushed his teeth, and by the time he got back, Isaac was there trying to commandeer Stiles’ burrito. It was obvious he was doing it in good fun though, because once Derek turned off the light, he fell onto the pile of blankets and cozied up to Erica.

Derek saw his blinds open with the window cracked, probably because five bodies in one room would get really warm fairly quickly. He wandered over to it, trying not to step on anyone, and pushed the window open a little more, then closed the blinds. Turning, he moved to lay down beside Isaac, closest to the bed, and stared up at the ceiling.

A few minutes later, he felt a hand touch his shoulder and he smiled, reaching up with one of his and squeezing it tightly before letting go. Stiles retreated his hand and Derek closed his eyes for sleep.

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

“You seem different.”

Stiles was snapped out of his daydream, pen in his mouth and eyes glazed over at the words, immediately focussing on Scott across from him. He pulled the pen from between his lips and cleared his throat, sitting up straighter and trying to push aside thoughts of Derek and his mouth.

“Do I?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Yeah.” Scott shrugged. “I mean, not in a bad way or anything, but you’re just... different.”

“I guess I’m just happy,” Stiles said with a shrug, grinning at Scott and then kicking him under the table. “Something wrong with me being happy?”

“No.” Scott rolled his eyes. “It’s just _weird_.”

“It’s weird?”

“Yeah.”

“Me being happy is weird?”

“Okay, well, I sound like a dick when you put it that way, but it’s just weird, okay? In a good way. Still weird.”

Stiles laughed and kicked him again, pointing for him to go back to his assignment.

Scott was doing badly in one of his classes, and even though he went to the library a lot to stop getting distracted, apparently he’d found ways around the lack of WiFi to do other things—like play Candy Crush on his phone. It was making him fall behind so Stiles, good friend that he was, decided it was his duty to follow along and keep him in line.

It meant he missed out on studying in Derek’s room with the others, but he still did that every now and then. He just divided his time between Scott and the fourth years.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t see a lot of Derek, anyway.

It was still really scary, but amazing, and kind of weird. It had been almost a month since his breakdown in Derek’s room, and aside from Erica being extra coddling, everything was kind of the same when the five of them were together.

But sometimes they weren’t. Sometimes, he was alone with Derek. They still did the snacks run together in his car, except instead of always making a pit stop at McDonald’s for a chat and some ice cream, Derek sometimes drove them to a secluded lot somewhere to make out when Stiles wanted to do that.

Stiles was happy he’d only had two panic attacks since this had all started, and both of them were in the first week. After that, he tried to just enjoy being with Derek. No one saw them in the car, they were literally in the middle of nowhere.

Sometimes they made out in Derek’s room, but the bed scared Stiles a little because he was still pretty new to all this and he worried he might bite off more than he could chew. Derek seemed pretty good about where they were drawing the line, despite Stiles never having said anything to him about it, but Stiles really felt like he wanted to suck his dick.

Which was terrifying, because he’d never sucked anyone’s dick before, but he kind of really wanted to suck Derek’s. Thankfully, Derek was smart enough to know Stiles was _not_  ready for that, so yes, no beds. Beds made Stiles braver than he was, so it was safer to make out in the car.

Things were actually going really well. He felt... better. He felt good. Like he wasn’t hiding anymore, even though he still was. But having Derek was different, being able to kiss him was _amazing_. They still talked, it wasn’t like they’d flipped a switch and things were purely physical, but it was less Stiles being self-deprecating and Derek rebuffing everything he said, and more Derek trying to help coach him into feeling comfortable enough to tell his dad.

Stiles didn’t think he’d ever feel comfortable enough to tell his dad, but in case it had to happen, he wanted to be prepared for it. He was still fucking terrified his dad was going to be like Derek’s and just disown him. Stiles didn’t know what he’d do if he lost him, his dad meant everything to him, and he wished being different wasn’t so hard.

Not that he was different, as Derek always said. Society had created the rules, but that didn’t make everyone outside of them different. It just made the rules fucking stupid.

“Well, well,” a voice said from behind Stiles. He’d been distracted thinking about Derek again and he snapped back to the present, turning around and not at all disguising his disdain. “Looks like I stumbled onto Loserville.”

“Because we’re in the library?” Stiles asked.

“Only losers hang out in the library, Stilinski.”

“You realize _you_  are _currently_  in the library, right?”

Jackson was still smirking smarmily at him, but Stiles could tell that blow had connected because his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Of all the schools his rich ass parents could’ve sent him, why did it have to be _this_  one? Stiles had suffered through four years of high school with this dickface, did he _really_  need to suffer through four years of university, too?

Thankfully he didn’t have any classes with him this semester, or he would’ve dropped them.

“What are you ladies doing? Trying to find the best way to cheat your way to the top, like in high school?”

“I’m sorry, does my intellect make you feel so emasculated that you can’t help but feel threatened being in my very presence?” Stiles offered him a smile. “Do your balls shrivel up into your abdomen when you’re near me because my brain makes you feel so inadequate?”

“Cute, Stilinski,” Jackson sneered. “Don’t forget I can fit you into a locker if I want to.”

“I wouldn’t recommend trying that.”

Stiles hadn’t even heard him approach and he turned to find Boyd standing behind Scott, eying Jackson like he was dirt under his shoe.

“I’d have to see if you can fit into a shoebox.”

“Aw, is this your girlfriend?” Jackson motioned Stiles, eyes on Boyd. “Come to defend the pretty princess’ honour?”

“I think you’re failing to recognize I am twice your size, little man. I would suggest you run along before you piss me off.”

“Boyd doesn’t get pissed off very easily,” Stiles informed Jackson, turning back to him. “I would really recommend not pissing him off. He’s very scary.”

Jackson scoffed, trying for unconcerned, but the way his eyes shifted between Stiles and Boyd made it clear he _was_  concerned.

“Whatever. Go fuck yourself, Stilinski.”

“Okay, nice chat,” Stiles called after him, Jackson hitching his bag higher on his shoulder while hurrying away. “Talk soon! Give Lydia my love!”

“Don’t antagonize him,” Scott sighed.

Stiles just shrugged and turned back to Boyd and Scott. “Dinner time?”

“Just about. I was heading back from class, figured I’d detour and come get you both.”

“Thank _God_ ,” Scott slapped his notebook shut and got to his feet, beginning to pack all his things away. Stiles insisted they weren’t done, but started putting his own stuff away as well. He hadn’t really gotten much done, mostly because he daydreamed about Derek a lot.

It was weird, but when Derek was in front of him, studying or reading or whatever, Stiles could focus on his work and get a lot done, but somehow, when he wasn’t there, Stiles just daydreamed about him. He figured it was because when they were together he could just look up and _see_  him, but when he wasn’t with him, he had to _think_  about him.

They headed out within five minutes, Stiles asking Boyd about how class was and Scott texting Kira since Stiles had confiscated his phone while they’d been in the library. They chatted about nothing in particular on their way back to the dorm to drop off their stuff, Scott offering to get Derek since he was on the third floor but Stiles practically shouted that he would do it and rushed up to the fourth floor with his bag still on.

He hurried down the corridor, trying not to smile too huge, and stopped at Derek’s door, knocking. It opened a few seconds later and Stiles inhaled to speak when he saw someone sitting in his room and the words died in his throat.

“Sorry,” he backed up a few steps. “I didn’t know you were busy.”

“Oh, no, Davis was just leaving. We’re done.” He turned back to the guy in the room who stood up and headed for the door. He thanked Derek in a kind of subdued way, like he felt defeated, and then wandered down the corridor.

Stiles watched him disappear through the stairwell door before walking into Derek’s room, the older man shutting and locking the door. He dropped his messenger bag by the desk and cocked an eyebrow.

“Did you kill his dog?”

Derek laughed. “No, he’s having problems with his roommate. Wants a transfer, but it’s only a few months to the end of the school year, so it’s hard to accommodate. I just told him to keep track of all the shit that’s happening and that I’d talk to his roommate about it.”

Stiles shrugged in response to that, then grinned again and inched closer. “So. It’s time for dinner.”

“Is it?” Derek looked amused.

“Mm. Can I have dessert first?”

“How can I say no when you ask so nicely?”

Stiles grinned and wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck, pulling him down to slot their lips together.

It was amazing how much easier this was, now. Stiles had struggled with this for so long, panicking in the first week, but by the second he felt... not better, but less afraid. By the third, he was okay with it, and now, when he knew no one could see them, Stiles just kissed Derek like he was a drug Stiles was in withdrawal from. He loved kissing him, and he would never get tired of it.

He would _never_  get tired of kissing Derek. His lips were soft and warm, his hands were always leaving lines of heat on Stiles’ skin, and God his _stubble_. If Derek ever tried to shave, Stiles would burn down every razor company in the state.

His nails dragged through Derek’s beard, mouth opening so he could suck on his tongue, pushing him back against the door. Derek’s hands were up under his shirt, dragging across his back, and Stiles had to swallow back a moan when he felt the line of Derek’s dick against his leg.

Derek pulled back, breathing hard. “Not now. We’re going to dinner. Don’t fucking do this to me now, Stiles.”

“Fuck, can’t we just _not go_?” Stiles pressed his lips to Derek’s once more, feeling addicted. No matter how scary this was, in the safety of Derek’s room, this was all so fucking amazing and perfect. He loved being able to do this, to kiss him, to drag his nails through his stubble and rock his hips into Derek’s. He loved knowing he could turn Derek on as easily as the other man could turn him on.

He loved everything about Derek. He was so fucking happy he had him in his life right now.

They were still kissing, Derek pressed back against the door, when his phone went off. Stiles pressed forward harder, rocking his hips into Derek’s, and enjoying the groan that slid up his throat.

“Wait,” Derek insisted, breaking the kiss. “Wait, wait, wait. After. Later.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Derek kissed him again lightly, digging his phone out of his pocket and looking at the message. He laughed. “Isaac just asked if we were fucking and to hurry up.”

The first time Derek had received a message like that was one of the two times Stiles had had a panic attack in the first week of them being together. It had taken Derek almost ten minutes to calm him down, and he’d shown Stiles that this was just how Isaac talked when he was impatient. Derek had scrolled through some messages and proven that a number of times a week, Isaac made a comment about people fucking or sucking dick if they took too long to show up somewhere. He’d done it about Boyd and Derek before, too. And Erica and Derek.

And now Stiles and Derek.

It still made Stiles’ heart jerk uncomfortably in his chest whenever Derek got one of those messages, but he didn’t panic about them anymore. He and Derek were really careful, and while it still scared Stiles a little bit, he tried really hard not to think it was always about his secret.

“Come on,” Derek kissed Stiles lightly once more, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Let’s go eat. Uh, after I calm down.”

Stiles grinned at him, loving that he’d turned him on, but obediently backed up a step so that Derek could get his problem back under control. They hadn’t really done anything _intimate_  yet, but Stiles knew Derek wanted that. He kind of did too, but he was scared. Because he’d never done things like this with another guy before, and while he knew it was what he _wanted_ , the unknown was terrifying.

It took a few minutes for Derek to calm down, texting Isaac to let him know they’d be down in a second. When he was finally good to go, he turned to open his door and led the way out, Stiles following and shutting the door after engaging the lock from the inside. They headed down the corridor together, and every now and then, Stiles felt Derek’s hand brush his lower back before it would disappear.

He noticed that Derek did things like that a lot unconsciously. He would start to brush hands with Stiles, and then realize what he was doing and shove them into his pockets. Occasionally he would press his hand to the small of Stiles’ back before realizing he was doing it and retreating his hand.

It made Stiles a little sad, because he knew Derek was only hiding that side of himself for his benefit, and he kept hoping that he would be able to be okay with this soon. He wanted to be out and open about their relationship, just... not right now.

“What took you so long?” Isaac demanded when they reached the entrance. “I’m wasting away, here.”

“Sorry, I was helping someone out when Stiles showed up, so I had to finish that up before we could leave.” Derek moved up to Isaac and wrapped one arm around his shoulders, yanking him into his side. “Besides, you’re getting fat, maybe cut back on the Twinkies.”

“I am _not_  getting fat! What the fuck, Derek!”

Stiles laughed and fell in beside Scott while they headed for the common block so they could have dinner. He saw Derek glance back at him briefly, a smile on his face, and Stiles smiled back.

Things were okay. They weren’t good, but they were as close as they could get.

* * *

_“You’re hiding something from me.”_

“Am I now?” Stiles sighed, one hand shoved in his pocket and the other holding his phone to his ear while he walked back to the dorms from class. It had run a little late because the professor had gone off on a tangent about things unrelated to their course, and no one had been brave enough to stand up and leave or point out the time. A few people ended up running out of class, presumably late for another one, but thankfully Stiles got to meander back to the dorms for lunch.

He wondered if Derek had already eaten. Maybe he’d go ask if he wanted to come with him. It wouldn’t be weird. It was just two friends going to lunch together. Or an RA spending time with one of the dorm students. Not weird. Not suspicious. Totally normal guy behaviour.

If Stiles kissed him behind closed doors, no one had to know that. And _God_  did Stiles love kissing him, because Derek was so good at kissing, and his beard was all scratchy and awesome, and his _mouth_. Just—everything. Derek’s everything was amazing.

_“Scott said you’ve been acting really different lately. Happier. You daydream more often. You have a girlfriend.”_

“I don’t,” Stiles insisted. Not a lie.

_“That was such an immediate response that you do, Stilinski, don’t lie to your Queen or I’ll have you beheaded.”_ He heard her shuffle on the other side before she let out a small huff. _“Can’t believe you didn’t tell me. So, spill. What’s she like? How long have you been together? Why haven’t you admitted it to Scott?”_

Figures Lydia would be across the country without the ability to see him and would know immediately he was dating someone, whereas Scott saw him literally every day and was none the wiser.

Thank _God_  Lydia was across the country, really, otherwise she’d have taken one look at who Stiles hung out with and made her own deductions. She was way too smart that way.

“Look, it’s not a big deal,” he insisted, raking one hand through his hair. “It’s just—it’s new. We’re kind of—it’s good, I just...”

_“You just?”_ Lydia prompted when he trailed off for too long.

Stiles let out a slow breath. “Don’t laugh.”

_“Who do you think I am?”_

He hesitated. “I kind of—I’m not... comfortable? Like, I’m not _not_  comfortable, but I just... everything is kind of... new. And fast, but also not? And I just want to... slow down but not stop?”

_“Mm,”_ Lydia said in agreement. _“Yeah, I remember when you dated Malia. She said you always had ‘performance issues’ but I knew it wasn’t that.”_

Stiles’ heart tripped in his chest and his mouth went dry, thoughts immediately going to her knowing his secret, but when she continued, he was able to breathe again and he reached up with his free hand to rub at his chest above his pounding heart.

_“I think you just know what you want. You don’t want to get intimate with someone just because it’s the thing to do. You want it to **mean**  something. It’s the romantic sap in you.”_

“I _am_  pretty romantic,” he agreed with a small smile.

_“Well, have you talked to her about this? About how it makes you uncomfortable? Or just that you want to slow down?”_

“Kind of?” Stiles squinted. “I mean, we’ve talked about it, and we go slow, but I just worry there’s a misunderstanding on _how_ slow?”

_“If she’s comfortable going from the beginning to the end, then just tell her you want to set the pace. There’s nothing wrong with that, Stiles. If she doesn’t get it, then she’s not even worth it. She doesn’t deserve you if she can’t respect your boundaries.”_

“I guess,” he muttered, sighing and raking one hand through his hair. He opened his mouth to speak again and almost tripped and fell on his face, someone shouldering into him hard from behind. He had to scramble to grab his phone so he didn’t drop it and he glared up at Jackson, who was walking backwards and smirking at him.

“Watch where you’re going, loser.”

“Seriously?” Stiles demanded. “The campus is massive, how do you keep showing up? Don’t you have a shampoo to go and advertise or something?”

Jackson flipped him off, then faced forward again, continuing on his way. Stiles noticed he was heading for _his_  set of dorms, which meant he was probably going to meet a friend. Great. If the friend was in Stiles’ dorm, he was fucking moving.

_“I see you two are getting along, as usual.”_

“Your boyfriend is an asshole.”

_“Not my boyfriend,”_ she insisted curtly, then let out a soft sigh. _“I have to go. Meeting some friends in a minute. But talk to your girlfriend, okay? You have the right to be comfortable in this relationship, too.”_

“I will,” he promised. “And Lyds? Don’t, uh—don’t tell Scotty, okay?”

_“I’d ask why, but I know you won’t tell me. Not like I talk to McCall that often, anyway. I’ll keep this between us, but I expect all the scoop when I see you this summer. Capiche?”_

“Yes, my Queen.” He smiled slightly. “Have a good night.”

_“You too. Bye Stiles.”_

He hung up and put his phone away, crossing the street and making his way slowly towards his dorm. It was on the outskirts of their set of dorms, so it was easy to get from the road into the back door. He climbed the stairs slowly, worried about Lydia knowing and telling Scott.

He knew Scott wouldn’t figure it out, he was a little dense, and if he started asking questions, Stiles could just bring up Kira and he’d go all dopey and goo-goo eyes. It would be fine. Besides, Lydia had never broken a promise. It was a trust thing. He knew things about her, she knew things about him. Though Derek was still the only one who knew about _the thing_ , and he wanted to keep it that way.

Reaching the fourth floor, he saw Derek’s door ajar and moved forward, knocking on it lightly.

“Come in,” Derek said absently, and Stiles pushed the door open.

He was sitting at his desk, twirling a pen in one hand and scowling down at his book, sitting sideways in his chair. Derek often sat sideways in his chair, and Stiles assumed it was because he didn’t like having his back to the door. Sitting sideways allowed him to see both his desk _and_  the door.

Turning to see who’d knocked, the scowl disappeared and a soft smile crossed his features. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Stiles shut the door behind him and locked it for good measure, crossing his arms defensively and moving closer. “Can we, uh... Can we talk?”

“Sure.” Derek dropped his pen and turned his chair towards his bed properly, motioning for Stiles to sit. He did so a little uncomfortably, arms still crossed. He licked his lips, trying to figure out the best way to talk about this, and glanced at the door to make sure it was firmly closed.

“I just... I wanted to talk. You know, about this-this thing. The you and me thing.”

Derek looked a little sad, but he still smiled slightly. “Stiles, if you’re not comfortable with continuing this, I completely unders—”

“No,” Stiles blurted out, because _God_  no, he wanted this. So bad. He wanted to kiss Derek’s handsome, stupid face right now! But not until they had this talk. “No, it’s not—I want this. I do. I like what we have. I want—this is good. You and me. I just...” He winced, trying to figure out how to word it.

Derek waited patiently, allowing him to collect his thoughts, and Stiles let out a slow breath.

“I want to try things with you. Move forward. I mean, we’re kind of dating, right? You’re like, my boyfriend?”

A small smile formed on Derek’s face at those words and he nodded, reaching out one hand to touch Stiles’ knee lightly. “Yeah, Stiles. I’m your boyfriend. And you’re mine.”

“Right.” Stiles pressed his lips together. “So I’m—I like this. What we have. What we’re doing. I just—everything is new. And scary. And I think... I _know_  I want to move forward. You know, with the kissing, and the touching, and the-the other stuff. I’m just really... not uncomfortable, but it’s just a lot.”

“You want things to be slow,” Derek said, and Stiles was so relieved that he understood he felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Stiles, I would never move us in a direction you’re not comfortable with. If you want to stick to making out for the rest of the year, I’m fine with that. If you want to try something else, that’s good too, but _only_  if you’re comfortable.”

“I mean, I _am_  with most things. In theory. I’ve just—never done things like this before. I get turned on really easily, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“It’s normal,” Derek insisted. “Stiles, you spent years hiding your attraction to men, it makes sense that having one near you that you _know_  you can be intimate with is making you react that way. We can go as slow as you want, I have no problem with that. And thank you for telling me, because I would never want to put you in a position where you didn’t want to proceed and didn’t know how to tell me.”

Stiles nodded, arms still crossed but one hand rubbing absently at his arm. “Right. It’s just—sometimes when we make out, I think it’d be nice to like, lie on the bed? And just... be like that? But then I worry about it because it’s kind of a lot, and I don’t want you to know my dick is hard and just...”

“My dick is hard too, you know,” Derek insisted with a small laugh. “It’s not like you haven’t felt it when we make out against the door. You’re really attractive, it’s kind of hard to avoid.”

“Right.” Stiles rubbed at his arm harder. “Okay. So we’re–we’re okay? If I want to-to take a step back, we’re good? And if I don’t, we’re still good?”

“Yes.” Derek leaned forward to kiss his lips lightly. “If you want to hump against the door, like you seem intent on doing _every time_ you come and get me for dinner, that’s fine. If you want some space between us when we make out, that’s fine too. It’s whatever you’re comfortable with, Stiles. You can set the boundaries, I’m perfectly fine with that.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” Derek insisted. “Thank _you_  for being honest about your boundaries.”

“Or lack thereof,” Stiles said with a small smile. Derek rolled his eyes, but he was also smiling, so things were okay. “I’d like to move forward with some things, though. Like—I’d like to give you a handjob someday. Not today,” he blurted out, because Derek suddenly looked really interested. “But, you know, soon. Like, in a little while. It would just be—it’ll be different. I want to try that with you.”

“I’ll only say no to that if you look uncomfortable.” He kissed Stiles’ lips once more. “Okay? You okay?”

“Yeah.” He let out a small breath and laughed. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks, Derek. For understanding.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he repeated, leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah.” He licked his lips, then glanced at the door. “I was about to head to lunch. Care to join me?”

“Sorry, I have this thing due in about half an hour.” Derek glanced at the time. “I’m not done yet. If you can wait, I’ll go with you then. If not, we can head to dinner together later.”

“I can wait,” Stiles grinned. “I have homework I can work on.”

“Great. Give me half an hour and we can head out.” Derek turned his chair back to how it was, sitting sideways and picking his pen back up, staring down at his notes. He had his computer open on a word program, so Stiles assumed it was an assignment he had to submit online.

He didn’t dwell on it and just started pulling some books out of his bag so he could start on his homework, but he kept glancing over at Derek every now and then and smiling.

He really _was_  the best boyfriend, and Stiles felt like if they ever broke up, no other boyfriend he ever had in his life would compare to this one.

* * *

He was doing it on purpose. He _had_  to be doing it on purpose. There was no _way_  he wasn’t doing it on purpose!

Every now and then, he would look up, _right_ at Derek, and he would just look _so fucking smug_! He was doing it to be an asshole, because other people were in the room, and Derek had to keep his hands to himself. But dammit, if Stiles didn’t stop fucking doing inappropriate things to that fucking pen with his mouth, Derek was going to kick everyone out of the room!

He wished he could say he hated how comfortable Stiles had gotten the past two months, but it would be a lie. He was fucking thrilled at how comfortable Stiles was. It had only been just over three months since they’d gotten together, but Stiles hadn’t had any more panic attacks, and he seemed like he was more and more comfortable in his own skin every day. He’d even told Derek he was thinking about trying to talk to his dad over the summer.

Not admitting he was gay, but just putting the feelers out. Apparently he had no idea what his father’s stance was on the LGBTQ+ community, which probably exacerbated his concern that his dad would reject him. Hopefully if he could talk about the community as a whole, and receive a good response, he would feel more comfortable about admitting the truth to him.

Right now though, Derek didn’t care _who_  knew and who didn’t, if Stiles didn’t fucking _stop_  with that God damn pen, Derek was going to attack him whether they had an audience or not!

“I’m done,” Isaac said, slamming his book shut and making Derek jump. He’d been too focussed on Stiles’ mouth and hadn’t noticed his friend moving out of the corner of his eye. “I’m gonna go see if Allison wants to watch a movie.”

“I thought it was Netflix and chill,” Boyd said absently from the floor. “Isn’t that what kids are saying nowadays when they have sex?”

“You make us sound so _old_ ,” Erica whined. “Dorm baby, are we old?”

“Super old,” Stiles said with a grin. “What are you gonna call me next year when all your old asses are graduated and I’m a second year?”

“Dorm baby,” Isaac and Erica said in unison.

“See you guys later,” Isaac said, rubbing his hand against Stiles’ hair and then climbing off the bed. He waved to them all before disappearing through the door with his books, leaving it slightly ajar.

“What are you guys all doing next year, anyway?” Stiles asked, pulling the pen out of his mouth and looking over at Derek somewhat nervously. Exams were fast approaching, as was the end of the year, and it suddenly occurred to Derek that Stiles would be left alone with his friend Scott. He’d probably been thinking about it a fair bit the past few weeks, but this was the first time he’d actually made his concerns known aloud.

“Boyd’s doing his Graduate Diploma,” Erica said absently from the floor, reading a book since apparently she didn’t want to pass her courses. “He’s sticking close to campus for it, so I guess I’ll be around to bug you whenever time permits.”

“You guys are moving in together?” Stiles asked, smiling endearingly.

God Derek loved him.

“Yeah, figured I’d stick around with this big lug.” Erica reached out one hand to lightly pound her fist against whatever part of Boyd she could reach in her position with her head in the middle of his back. “I’ve got a catering gig lined up after I graduate. Met the lady who owns a place in town last year and she’s saving me a spot in her kitchen. We bonded over coffee and I made her a crème brulée, and she loves me.”

“Aren’t you in Nursing?” Stiles asked slowly, confused.

Erica lowered her book. “Do I look like someone with good bedside manner to you?”

“The correct answer is no,” Boyd informed him.

“Damn straight,” Erica said, slapping at Boyd lightly. “I am not at all known for my good bedside manner. I only agreed to that faculty to get my parents off my back. Once I graduate, I can just say it didn’t pan out and do what I want. They forced me to go to university, I never said I would follow the career path they chose for me.”

“But you’re really good at it,” Stiles said quietly. “I mean, you get good grades, and the world needs more nurses.”

“I don’t have the stomach for it,” Erica admitted. “I’m too... I wouldn’t do well. Tried to tell my parents that, but they ignored me. It’s all well and good to get good grades when you’re looking at a piece of paper and need to write the answer down, but in practice? I can’t even do an accucheck because lancets are the actual _worst_  since, you know, blood.”

Derek doubted Stiles knew, but he just nodded sagely, Erica sighing while she continued.

“I literally froze during my ICU rotations. Putting me in front of someone who _actually_  needs help would be a disservice to them.” She shrugged. “My parents wouldn’t listen when I told them this wasn’t for me and that I wanted to go to culinary school. They made me come here, so I did it to make them happy, but I swear, Stiles, you put me in front of a bleeding man and I’m useless. I’d rather make people fat.”

Stiles snorted and rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say. So, Boyd’s coming back to school, Erica’s making people fat.” He looked over at Derek hesitantly. “And you?”

“I’m doing a co-op,” Derek informed him. “It’s downtown, so I’m renting a place after I graduate.”

“So you’re sticking around?” Stiles perked up like a puppy and it was fucking _adorable_.

“Yeah, Stiles. I’m sticking around.”

“Isaac’s leaving, though.” Erica sighed, dropping her book. “We’re trying to convince him to stay, but he wants to live closer to his mom. There’s a good vet program for him back home, so he’s probably gonna go to school there once he’s done and we’ll have to bribe him to come out and visit us.”

“What about you?” Boyd asked, shifting onto his elbows and looking at Stiles.

“Me what?”

“What are you going to do when you graduate.”

“Well, I have three more years,” Stiles insisted with a small laugh. “But I guess—I don’t know. Thinking about trying to get into pharmacy. I honestly haven’t given it much thought, I always just figured I’d _know_  when I got here, you know? But there’s so much out there, and I just want to do something that helps people, like my dad.”

“Your dad the sheriff?” Boyd asked with a small smile.

“Yeah, my dad the sheriff.” Stiles grinned. “He’s awesome, and amazing, and I just want to live up to him, you know? Be someone he can be proud of.”

“I’m sure he’ll be proud of you no matter what, Stiles.”

It meant so much more that it hadn’t come from Derek, in his opinion. Because having Boyd say those words, who didn’t know Stiles’ secret, put the biggest smile on his face and it just made Derek’s heart melt.

“Ugh, the sap is too much,” Erica insisted, though Derek could tell she was starting to get emotional talking about graduation. She sat up and slowly got to her feet, stretching out her sore joints and then rolling her neck. “Time to go. Boyd, we’re going to mine tonight. If Isaac’s busy getting some, we can’t leave my children alone. Derek can handle this place on his own.”

“Yes dear,” Boyd teased, getting to his feet and kissing her temple before turning to Derek and Stiles. “We’ll see you guys later.”

“Have a good night.” Stiles waved and Derek just nodded in farewell. The other two left the room, shutting the door behind them.

Derek was on his feet instantly, striding across the room and locking the door before turning to glare at Stiles.

He had an impish grin on his face, pen between his teeth again, and Derek strode over to the bed and grabbed one of his ankles, yanking him sideways so he fell onto his back lengthwise on the bed. Stiles laughed, the pen in his hand, and Derek climbed on top of him, hovering over him and glaring.

“You were doing that on purpose.”

“Maybe,” Stiles grinned. “Wanted to see how strong your resolve was.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I’d be the best death ever,” Stiles argued, wrapping both arms around Derek’s neck, pen still held in one hand. He pulled him down, their lips pressing together, but Derek made sure to keep their bodies apart until Stiles arched his back upwards and pulled him down more insistently.

Then, and _only_  then, did Derek lower himself so he was lying flush on top of him, hands at his waist and lips moving slowly against Stiles’.

Stiles had told him a while back that he was still a little unsure about going too far, given this was all extremely new to him, so Derek did his best not to rush things along. He always waited for Stiles to tell him what he wanted, how far he was comfortable going, whether or not it was okay for Derek to touch him. So far, things were progressing. Slowly, but Derek was okay with that, because he wanted Stiles to be comfortable.

Though Stiles _had_  given him a handjob a few weeks ago, and Derek may have lost his mind over it. Stiles was good at fucking _everything_  he did, and his _hands_! God, Derek wanted to worship his fucking hands.

Pulling apart slightly, Stiles tilted his head so he could press his lips lightly to Derek’s.

“Hey Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I blow you?”

Derek laughed. “Is that what the show was all about? Getting my cock in your mouth?”

“I do have an oral fixation.”

“True.” Derek bent down to kiss him lightly again, a brief peck of their lips. “But you like to bite. So maybe I should suck _your_  dick.”

Stiles’ breath hitched at that and Derek frowned before pulling back a little further, staring down at him.

“Stiles, has no one ever sucked your dick before?”

“Who would I get to suck my dick?”

“I don’t know, an ex-girlfriend or something?”

Stiles winced, shifting uncomfortably. “I could never get it up for them,” he admitted, a little embarrassed.

Derek was going to blow him until he couldn’t remember his own fucking name.

Which shouldn’t be hard, considering his name. Derek still didn’t know how to pronounce it properly, and Stiles loved laughing at his attempts.

“You want to suck my dick when you’ve never had yours sucked before. Unbelievable. No way, you’re getting blown and we can think about you sucking mine another time.”

Derek ducked out from beneath Stiles’ arms and shimmied down the bed a little, reaching for Stiles’ jeans. He pushed the button through the eyehole, but glanced up at Stiles before unzipping him.

“Are you okay with this?”

Stiles looked nervous, and uncomfortable, but his pupils were blown and his lips were wet and he nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Yeah, Derek. I’m good with this.”

“If you’re not okay, you need to tell me.”

“Okay.”

Derek watched him for a moment longer, but the dick trapped beneath the jeans he was hovering over was getting harder and harder, so he just turned to make sure the door was locked again and then unzipped his pants.

Stiles arched his hips so Derek could pull them down somewhat, and he grinned at the briefs Stiles was wearing, snapping the waistband.

“Briefs? You’re adorable.”

“Fuck you, they’re comfortable.”

Derek just laughed and reached for the waistband again so he could pull them down, but he paused when Stiles made an aborted motion with his hands, like he was going to grab at Derek and forced himself to stop.

Remaining unmoving, Derek looked up at him. Stiles had shifted to fist his hands in the blankets on either side of his body, and he was breathing exceptionally fast.

“Okay?” he asked.

“I’ve just—No one’s ever done this before. I’m not... I just don’t want to fuck this up.”

“Stiles, you’re not going to fuck anything up. But if you’re not comfortable, we can stop.”

Stiles winced, like he both wanted to stop and didn’t. He glanced at the door, then said, “Can we turn off the light?”

“Sure.”

Derek rolled off the end of the bed, padding across the room to the lightswitch and turned it off. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but he knew his room well enough that it was easy to make it back to the bed, crawling up onto it until he was hovering over Stiles again.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m just—you have a huge dick, and like, mine isn’t that big, and it’s weird-looking and like—”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted, letting out a small laugh. “Stop worrying. I’m sure your dick is fine.” He kissed him once, then moved back down his body. He grabbed the waistband of his briefs, gave Stiles a second to change his mind, and then pulled them down.

He couldn’t really see much in the dark, but he reached out with one hand and wrapped it around Stiles’ dick, hearing him hiss and rock up once into the grip. It made him wonder if Stiles hadn’t ever had someone else touch him like this before. Sure, he’d given Derek an amazing handjob, but that was easy because he could do that to himself.

Derek felt like he was probably the first person to ever have touched _Stiles’_ dick, and that was kind of insane to think of because Stiles was fucking _gorgeous_. He actually felt kind of lucky to realize that he was the first person to get intimate with Stiles, because he fucking loved this spastic little genius.

Bending down, he dragged the flat of his tongue up along the base of Stiles’ cock and was rewarded with the filthiest groan he’d ever heard. Derek grinned.

“Might want to muffle that,” he suggested.

The bed shifted and he heard a muffled, “Fuck you,” like Stiles had shoved a pillow over his face.

Derek just laughed, breath ghosting along Stiles’ cock, and he heard another groan slide up his throat.

If this was Stiles’ first blowjob, Derek wanted to made it memorable, so he took his time worshipping his cock, licking along the underside a few times and dragging his tongue over the head, collecting pre-cum and teasing the slit with the tip of his tongue. Stiles’ breathing was starting to increase in speed, and Derek had to pause to be sure he wasn’t having a panic attack.

Stiles rocking his hips upwards and bumping his cock against Derek’s chin made it clear he was _not_ , in fact, having a panic attack so he just went back to licking and sucking at his dick.

After a few minutes of torturing him like that, Derek wrapped his lips around the tip and sucked hard, a deep, drawn-out moan escaping Stiles. Even the pillow couldn’t muffle it entirely. Derek slid more of Stiles’ cock into his mouth, his tongue rubbing up along the vein on the underside.

He waited until he had a good amount in his mouth, sucked hard again, then took a deep breath before taking his dick down his throat.

“Fuck!” Stiles almost folded in half, starting to jerk upright but Derek slammed one hand against his chest to push him back down, the other gripping his hip tightly enough to bruise. He pulled back enough to breathe, bobbed his head a few times, and then deep-throated him again, Stiles letting out another shout into the pillow.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck, Derek.” One hand was in Derek’s hair and Stiles arched his back, trying to get his legs wider but hindered by the jeans and the briefs still around his thighs.

Derek didn’t think Stiles was going to last very long anyway, so he just pressed firmly on his chest to make sure he _stayed there_ , and then brought that hand back down. He gripped Stiles’ hips with both hands, bobbing his head quickly, swirling his tongue around the tip, and then took him down his throat again.

Stiles was making a high-pitched keening sound the likes of which Derek had _never_  heard before, and he could feel himself straining against his jeans. But first he had to take care of Stiles, so he shifted one hand down to his balls, rolling them in his hand, and Stiles let out another loud curse into the pillow before he came in Derek’s mouth.

It took a conscious effort not to choke, because he hadn’t been expecting the cum that hit the back of his throat, but Derek managed not to cough and just sucked at Stiles’ dick while he muttered nonsensical things into the pillow. He stuck the tip of his tongue into the slit to collect the last of the cum before pulling away entirely, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe at his mouth.

Stiles’ chest was rising and falling rapidly, and he had the pillow crushed against his face, like he wanted to hide every embarrassing thing he’d said during the entire experience. Derek just smiled, glad his eyes had adjusted somewhat to the dark, because Stiles looked fucking gorgeous, with his shirt riding up past his stomach, and his pants and underwear down his thighs, and his skin flushed.

He laughed and placed his hands on Stiles’ stomach, kissing just above his belly button.

“I love you, Stiles.”

There was a hand in his hair then, Stiles tugging him up to his face, but when Derek went to kiss him, Stiles just bit at his jawline, breathing wetly against his skin and burying his hands in his hair.

“Fuck, Derek. Fuck, I love you so much. But you just sucked my dick, so I’m not kissing you.”

Derek just laughed again, Stiles biting and sucking along his jawline. He let him do as he pleased, trying to get his underwear back on. It was hard with Stiles clinging to him like he was, but he eventually managed to get his briefs up and his pants redone, pulling his shirt down so it was like nothing had happened.

Except Derek was ridiculously hard now.

“Do you often eat pineapple?”

“What?” Stiles asked against his skin.

“Pineapple.”

“No, mostly just on the pizza we order. Why?”

“Your cum wasn’t bitter, so I figured you ate pineapple.”

“Oh my God, don’t talk about my cum!” Stiles hissed, burying his face in Derek’s neck. “Christ, Derek, what’s wrong with you?”

“I’m just complementing your eating habits. Your cum wasn’t that bad.”

“Please stop talking!”

Derek laughed and hugged Stiles against himself, ignoring the discomfort in his pants. He knew they’d get to that in a minute, but for now, he was fine just holding Stiles and enjoying a quiet moment together.

* * *

“I’m worried about Stiles.”

Derek looked up from his dinner, fork halfway to his face and mouth already open in anticipation of food reaching it. He stared at Boyd for a few seconds before slowly lowering his fork back down to his plate.

“Why?” he asked slowly, concerned about the answer.

Things had been going exceptionally well for Stiles lately, in Derek’s opinion. It had been months since his last panic attack, they were talking more and more about how he was going to talk to his dad about the LGBTQ+ community as a whole, and Derek felt like they were progressing at an adequate speed in their secret relationship.

If Boyd had noticed something Derek hadn’t, not only would he be the worst RA in the world, he’d probably be the worst boyfriend in the universe.

“He’s pushing himself too hard for his classes,” Boyd said with a frown, spearing a potato on the tines of his fork and inspecting it thoughtfully before popping it into his mouth and chewing. “He’s already looking at taking on more third year courses next year, and he almost had a meltdown yesterday when he saw his exam schedule.”

Derek and Boyd stared at one another for a moment and his friend winced, pointing his fork at Derek.

“Don’t tell him I told you that. He made me promise not to tell anyone.”

That didn’t bode well. Stiles was having panic attacks with Derek over being gay, and meltdowns with Boyd over his classes. It was amazing he could find the strength to smile at all, considering how emotionally taxing this entire year had been for him. On top of that, it was his first year of university. A time for fun and drunken adventures and stupid decisions.

Stiles hadn’t really had any of that. He didn’t drink because he was too scared of accidentally blurting out that he was gay, he spent more time hanging out with the fourth years than with people his own age, and while he and Derek were doing well, it was clear he still had massive anxiety over their relationship.

Sometimes Derek wished he could do the year over, not make out with Stiles, not find out his secret. Other times he was so glad he’d done that, because Stiles wasn’t alone anymore and had support on all sides from his fourth year friends, even if three of them didn’t know he was gay.

Erica and Isaac literally treated him like their son—not that Derek would ever trust _either_  of them with a child _ever_ —and Boyd was already particularly close to him even before he and Derek had ‘made up’ from their ‘fight.’

Stiles had a support network of people who cared about him, and even if he didn’t want the others to know, all of them knew Derek was bi and didn’t care. Sometimes Derek thought Isaac might be bi, and if not, then he was just extremely comfortable with his masculinity because he didn’t have a problem doing things a lot of other guys wouldn’t dare.

Like not freak out if he woke up snuggled against Derek with morning wood. Isaac was super chill about that kind of stuff, and it was really comforting knowing he wouldn’t make a big deal out of things like that when they happened.

But next year, Stiles wouldn’t have them so close. Sure, Boyd, Erica and Derek would stick around, and Isaac was only a phonecall away, but they wouldn’t be _there_. Stiles would be alone with his dark thoughts, and to find out he was struggling with his classes was a huge concern.

“I thought he was always doing really well in class,” Derek insisted, food forgotten in front of him.

“He is, but he has three exams within twenty-four hours next week.”

“That’s not allowed,” Derek said immediately, because there were policies in place to ensure no student would ever have more than two exams within a twenty-four hours window. It was to ensure no one got too overwhelmed and did something stupid.

“I told him that, and he mentioned it to his professors, but two of the courses are by the same prof and apparently he’s going on sabbatical so he has a set date for everything to be done and he won’t let Stiles do one of the exams on another day. The last one is his bio-chem exam and you know that prof doesn’t ever let his exam happen at different times because he’s worried people will cheat and help out their friends in different exam blocks. Everyone in that course has to do it the same time and day. And after those three exams in twenty-four hours, he has another one sixteen hours later.”

“We have to do something,” Derek insisted. “That’s ridiculous! That’s four exams in thirty-six hours! And Stiles is taking difficult courses, they’re not just literature courses or languages, they’re like, formulas and equations and the periodic table.”

“I know,” Boyd said with a sigh, rubbing one hand over his short hair. “I have a call with one of the TAs in the morning, because this can’t happen. The first three are Monday and Tuesday, and the fourth is on Wednesday. Then his last one, for English, is on the _last_  day of exams.”

That _would_  be Stiles’ luck, too. Having four exams in a forty-eight hour window, and the last one being at the very fucking end. Derek was glad Boyd had a call in to try and work something out, because if it didn’t, he was going to storm to someone’s office and start yelling. He didn’t know whose office, but someone’s!

And while he _did_  care so much because it was Stiles, he probably would’ve been pissed either way if it had been someone else. There was a policy in place for a reason, and it was fucking stupid that people kept bowling over them insisting it didn’t apply to them. Someone going on sabbatical and another class being a mandatory same time, same day were just bullshit excuses for students to have nervous breakdowns.

Derek was thinking about it the entire remainder of dinner. It was obvious Boyd was dwelling on it, as well, because while he wasn’t the most talkative of people, he didn’t usually stay completely silent.

They’d just headed to the tray return with their plates and cutlery when both of their phones went off at almost exactly the same time. Boyd pulled his out first, checking the message.

“Isaac says he’s got dorm baby and the puppy and they’re heading back to ours.”

“Good, I doubt Stiles has eaten, he’s been with his friend in the library all day.”

“Yeah,” Boyd muttered, the two of them heading for the exit. “I know Isaac’s helping his Sophomore not-girlfriend with one of her final papers, and I promised Erica I’d be by later to help her with a situation. Are you gonna be okay if I leave you alone for a while?”

“Considering Isaac and Erica are rarely in their own dorm and it hasn’t burned down yet, I think I can handle a few hours without you.” Derek slapped him on the shoulder.

“True. I’ll see you later, then.” Boyd started to turn to head for Erica’s dorm, then paused and looked back at him. “Don’t tell Stiles I told you about his breakdown, okay? He was—actually, he kind of freaked out when he realized you might find out. I think he worries because of how often you have to help him with his panic attacks, he doesn’t want you to think you have something else to add to your plate.”

“I won’t say anything,” Derek promised. “I’m a master at keeping secrets.”

“Yeah right, I’ve seen you play poker, you suck at bluffing.”

Oh, if only Boyd knew.

It depended on the secret.

They waved each other off and Derek headed back to the dorm on his own, hands in his pockets. He was almost at the door when he saw Isaac heading in his direction, meaning he’d likely just gotten back with Stiles and ‘the puppy,’ which was what he had dubbed Scott.

“Hey dude.” Isaac passed him and patted his back. “Later dude.”

“Night,” Derek said, continuing to the dorm and stopping to swipe his access card and type in his code. The door unlocked and he walked into the entrance, rubbing the back of his neck and heading for the stairs when his phone rang.

Pulling it out, he saw a number he didn’t recognize and answered it. A girl he didn’t recognize said she had to speak to him about her exam schedule, and she sounded a little panicked. Not meltdown-panic, but close enough.

Thankfully, he was already in the building so he asked if she was at his room, and when she confirmed it, he said he’d be right up and hung up. She was pacing outside his door by the time he exited the stairwell and he unlocked his door to let her in, motioning one of the two available chairs before asking if she wanted the door open or closed.

Some people didn’t like being locked in a room alone with an RA, especially girls, so he was always very mindful of their comfort levels. This one didn’t seem to care either way, so he pushed it closed almost all the way but it didn’t latch. Then he sat across from her and asked her about her exam schedule.

She also had three exams within twenty-four hours, but when he looked up what they were and he emailed one of the professors, the man replied before Derek could even check on the other two confirming he had two different exams set for the same class. When he provided the time for the second exam, it worked in the girl’s schedule and the professor confirmed he’d move her name to the other exam time so she would have a break between exams.

Derek was kind of annoyed this was an easy fix for her when Stiles’ was a fucking nightmare. But, at the same time, he was glad he was able to help her and she looked like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders when she walked out of his room.

Checking the time, and _positive_  Stiles hadn’t eaten, he headed down to the second floor and knocked on his door. He didn’t hear any music through the door, which suggested he wasn’t there, so he headed back up to the third floor. If Scott was gone, they’d probably headed out for some food, but when he opened the stairwell door, he saw Scott’s door ajar.

Walking over to it, he knocked once before pushing it open, and found Scott at his desk typing on his computer, and Stiles on his bed with two textbooks open and a plethora of notes.

He also had two pens in his mouth, another behind his ear, and a fourth one in his right hand, tapping nervously at his knee.

“Hey Derek,” Scott said. Stiles didn’t even twitch, as if he was too focussed on what he was doing to notice anyone else was there.

“Have you guys eaten?”

“I have,” Scott commented with a half-shrug. “I mean, kind of. I bought an apple and a granola bar on my way back, but he’s been like this all day.” He thumbed over his shoulder at Stiles. “Isaac had to almost _carry_  him out of the library because he didn’t want to lose out on time studying.”

“You both need to eat,” Derek said, wandering further into the room and stopping beside the bed.

Stiles still didn’t look up.

Derek reached out both hands and closed one of the textbooks. Stiles let out a loud exclamation, one pen falling from between his lips, and he looked up angrily to see who was trying to sabotage him. He looked only slightly confused at seeing Derek, because it seemed the anger was overshadowing the confusion.

“When did you get here?”

“A minute ago. Come on, we’re going to dinner.”

“Can’t,” he muttered, looking back down at the other still open textbook and chewing harder on the pen in his mouth. “Have to study.”

“What you have to do,” Derek said, grabbing the other book and shutting it as well, “is eat. You’re not doing yourself any favours by starving yourself.”

“I can eat ramen later,” Stiles insisted, re-opening one of the books.

Or attempting to. Derek just slammed one hand down on the cover, raising his eyebrows at Stiles’ annoyed look.

“Derek, I’m serious. I don’t have time.”

“I’m also serious. You’re going to take an hour break, and in that time, you are going to eat, and drink some water, and take a shower. Once you’ve done that, _then_  you can go back to studying.”

It looked like Stiles was going to argue, but Scott piped in that he wasn’t going to be retaining any more information if he didn’t give his brain a break, and the two of them essentially double-teamed him into angrily agreeing to go and get some food.

Derek went back to the common block with them, but it was mostly to make sure Stiles actually _went_. He didn’t talk much while he and Scott ate, so Derek tried to make small talk with Scott, which was difficult.

They didn’t really have much in common, and even if Derek hadn’t been secretly dating Stiles, they still would’ve hit it off regardless of his orientation. He was interesting, and smart, and funny, and he could talk a mile a minute about things that were actually stimulating.

Scott was a little boring, if Derek was honest. It explained why Isaac liked Scott, but not enough to invite him to their study sessions. The four of them assumed Stiles wasn’t comfortable inviting someone into the group when he’d only been a part of it for a year, and Derek was secretly thankful.

He liked Scott well enough, but he was also fine not having him in his space too often.

Once they were done eating and heading back to the dorm, Derek forced Stiles to stop on the second floor and pushed him towards his room, telling him to shower and that he was going to hold his textbooks hostage until Stiles was clean and comfortable in his pyjamas.

The look he got could’ve curdled milk, but Derek just raised his eyebrows in a ‘I’m serious, get your ass in the shower’ way and headed up to Scott’s room to follow through on his threat, taking all of Stiles’ notes and books. He called goodnight to Scott and went up to his own bedroom, checking the time.

It was just past seven by now, his break having gone on way longer than he’d intended. His room felt stuffy so he went over to the window and pulled the blinds aside so he could push it open. He let the blinds fall back into place and they tapped against the windowsill for a few seconds before settling.

Returning to his desk, he went back to studying for one of his own exams, twirling a pen absently in one hand, when there was a knock at his door.

He stood to answer it, and smiled a little when he found Stiles freshly showered and in his pyjamas, scowling grumpily at him. Derek just moved aside so he could come in and then shut and locked the door behind him.

When he turned back, Stiles had twisted to face him and he leaned forward, resting his head on Derek’s right shoulder with his arms hanging limply. Smiling a little, Derek wrapped his arms around him and rubbed at his back, cheek pressed against his wet hair.

“What’s up?”

Stiles inhaled deeply, then let out a slow exhale through his mouth, and Derek knew even before he spoke what he was going to say.

“I didn’t want to worry you, but I figure you’ll find out eventually. I had a breakdown with Boyd last night.”

“What happened?” He tried for concerned, but not shocked. He didn’t want Stiles to know Boyd had let slip, but he also wanted to try and show he trusted his friends to do right by him. Which Boyd had, and was actively working on the problem.

He let Stiles tell him about the problem with his exam schedule and asked the same questions he had with Boyd. He was believably pissed when he responded, mostly because he was _still_  pissed about it.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Derek promised. “You’re the smartest guy I know, and I’m not just saying that so I can kiss you later.”

Stiles snorted and reached up one hand to smack Derek in the chest. After a moment, he pulled his face back and craned his neck, pressing his lips lightly to Derek’s.

“Thanks for making me get food and shower.”

“You’re welcome.” Derek gave him a quick peck in return. “You can go back to studying now.”

“Oh joy,” he said, but Derek just insisted he would be great and kissed his temple, then let him go.

The two of them went back to their respective places and fell silent, working on their own revisions and occasionally glancing at one another.

When eleven rolled around, Derek said they were calling it a night and took Stiles’ books hostage again to ensure he’d get _at least_ six hours of sleep. At minimum.

He wished Stiles would just stay over, because he’d love to curl up against him despite the hot weather, but he knew that was asking a little much so he just gave him another kiss before waving him off to go to bed.

The next few days were going to be hell for Stiles, but Derek was positive he was going to be fine. Stiles was the smartest person he knew, he was sure he’d do great.

* * *

“It’s so hot, I’m dying,” Erica whined, using the book she’d been reading to fan herself, lying on the floor with her head on Boyd’s back, like always. “I swear, I’m dying.”

“Tragic,” Derek said from his desk, twirling a pen in one hand and frowning down at his notes. He couldn’t read his handwriting and he just _knew_  that this one equation he couldn’t figure out was going to be on his exam. Of course it would be, his luck was that shitty.

“Derek, open the window,” she whined loudly from behind him.

He just ignored her because she was done exams and could damn well open the window herself. Derek’s last exam was in eighteen hours, and Boyd’s was in just under twenty-four, so if anyone in the room could open the window, it was her.

And Stiles, he supposed, because his next exam wasn’t for another four days, but he got a pass, he wasn’t whining about the heat.

“Ugh, dickhead.”

Derek heard Erica get to her feet and come over to him. She hit him hard in the back with her book, but leaned around him to yank open the blinds and push open the window. She sighed and stood in front of it for a few minutes, even though there was barely a breeze.

He would admit that it was fairly hot this year. They’d always escaped the worst of the summer weather the previous three years, but it looked like summer had come early this year because it _was_  pretty fucking hot. Derek was too distracted by his work to dwell on it too much, but now that the window was open, it felt a _little_  bit more refreshing.

Erica returned to her post on the floor, letting out a whine and sighing. She was lucky, she’d finished her last exam the day before and, provided she passed all her courses, she was officially graduating in a few weeks. Isaac was in his last exam right now, though Derek realized when he checked the time that it was over and he was likely on his way back by now.

It was going to be surreal, no longer being in school. Having to get a job. Not that he needed that yet since he was doing a two-year co-op right out of university, but still. It would be weird putting what he’d learned into practice.

He also had some apartments to visit over the weekend with Boyd and Erica. The three of them were going to go apartment hunting as soon as possible. They knew that it was still a while before they had to move out of the dorms, but the sooner they secured places, the better, and if they went together they could try and get apartments close together.

Derek was hoping for something close to campus. He didn’t want to be too far from Stiles. Of course, there was no guarantee he and Stiles would be together forever, but Boyd and Erica were doing well so he was hopeful. And even if he and Stiles didn’t work out, he wanted to be there for him. Derek wasn’t the kind of person who had to cut off all contact when he broke up with someone unless the other party was being completely unreasonable.

He actually was still quite close with a few of his old partners, and he liked to think that, should things go south with Stiles, he would still be someone in his life. Stiles was amazing whether Derek was dating him or not, and while he was more comfortable in his own skin now, he was still _too_  uncomfortable to let anyone else know.

Even the people in this room, whom Derek knew Stiles trusted.

They all jumped when the door slammed open and Isaac thrust both fists in the air.

“Graduated!” he yelled.

“You haven’t graduated, dumbass.” Erica threw her book at him, but he caught it before it hit him. “You just finished your exams.”

“Something not everyone has done, so keep it down,” Boyd muttered from the floor.

“How’d it go?” Derek asked, turning in his chair and draping one arm across the back of it. “You feel good?”

“I feel _great_! And Allison’s done her exams, so we’re gonna celebrate tonight, if you know what I mean.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Yes, Isaac,” Erica said dryly. “We know what you mean.”

“I’m gonna bail on solidarity for tonight, but only tonight, I promise. I’ll be back here tomorrow to support our dorm baby and Boyd.” Isaac moved to the bed to ruffle Stiles’ hair and he batted his hand away with a scowl.

“I’m actually brain-dead, too,” Boyd said with a sigh. “I need to take some time off before my brain oozes out of my ears.”

“Hot, babe,” Erica said, but she sat up and stretched. “You guys all done then?”

“No,” Derek turned back to his book. “I need to study some more.”

“You mind if we take off?” Boyd asked.

“Yeah, it’s cool. Go have fun, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Cool.” Erica got to her feet. “What about you, dorm baby?”

“I’m gonna stick around and study some more.”

“Suit yourself.” Derek heard a loud smack of lips and a disgusted sound and smiled, knowing Erica had just planted a wet kiss on Stiles’ cheek, as she so often did.

The other three said their goodbyes and left the room, the door shutting behind them. He and Stiles were silent, and he liked that they were both so focussed on their work. He knew Stiles meant it when he said he wanted to study, because he didn’t get up to lock the door.

And Derek was definitely serious about studying, because he wanted to graduate.

“Wanna order pizza?” Stiles asked.

“Sure,” Derek muttered, still spinning his pen in one hand.

They both went silent again, Stiles obviously ordering on the website on his phone. Within twenty minutes, his phone rang and Stiles answered, heading out of the room. He came back five minutes later with a large Hawaiian pizza, two cans of Coke and one of the giant chocolate chip cookies.

Derek went to sit on the bed with him so they could keep studying and eat at the same time. They both did their own thing, sitting close together but not distracting each other since it was obvious they both wanted to keep their focus.

When Derek’s eyes began to burn, he checked the time on his phone and found it was past ten. He should get to bed, and so should Stiles, or they were going to have trouble in the morning. Not that his exam was in the morning, but he wanted to study for a few hours before it so it would be best if he got some sleep.

“I’m done for the night,” Derek said with a sigh.

“That’s cool.” Stiles shut his book. “I should probably go anyway. You need to get some sleep.”

Stiles gathered all his things and climbed off the bed, leaning down briefly to kiss Derek’s lips before wishing him a good night and heading for the door.

Derek hesitated for only a second before he climbed off the bed and grabbed at Stiles’ wrist so he couldn’t leave. Stiles turned back to him and Derek closed the distance, his free hand coming up to cradle the other’s face and pressing their lips together.

Stiles melted into him, and Derek was always amazed at how comfortable Stiles could be with him. He loved him so much, it was actually depressing he wouldn’t have him this close next year.

He’d love for him to live with him off campus, but he knew Stiles would never go for that, and Derek would rather him be comfortable.

When they pulled apart, Stiles grinned. “What was that for?”

“Just didn’t want you to leave with that pathetic excuse for a kiss. What if I fall down the stairs tomorrow and break my neck?” He pouted and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You’re an idiot.” He leaned forward to kiss Derek again lingeringly, amber eyes opening slowly when he pulled away. “I’ll see you for breakfast, okay?”

“I’ll come get you,” Derek agreed, kissing him again. “Good night.”

“Night.”

Derek released him and Stiles turned, exiting the bedroom and shutting the door behind him. Sighing, Derek rubbed the back of his head and went to clear away all the garbage and put his books back on his desk. He got ready for bed on auto-pilot, taking a quick shower before changing out into his pyjamas and climbing beneath the covers.

He fell asleep relatively quickly, but woke up grumpily around five in the morning when a shouting match started outside. Stumbling sleepily to his window, he angrily pulled it shut and lowered the blinds, falling back onto his bed and struggling to get some more sleep.

He had an exam in a few hours, and he wanted to be well-rested for it.

* * *

Stiles’ leg jerked up and down as he sat at the desk, waiting for the exam proctor to pass him so he could hand back his exam. He didn’t need to stay until the end, since he’d finished an hour and a half in, but he’d spent a majority of the last hour reviewing everything over and over.

He hated written exams. He had a bad habit of rambling about the wrong things, and he’d re-read the question ten times before starting to ensure he’d stay on track. The only good news was that he was now officially done with his six required credits for English.

Provided he passed, anyway.

Scott was in the same exam room, despite them being in different courses, because the first year English classes were limited so everyone tended to take the same ones.

Jackson was in the room, too, rat bastard. Stiles wondered if he was going to hog Lydia all summer. He hoped not. Or more, he hoped Lydia would make time for him. He knew Scott wouldn’t, what with them being together at school, and Kira being around.

The proctor passed Stiles’ desk and he held out his exam, the man taking it with a nod before continuing on. He waited until the papers had all been collected and they were told they could go, getting to his feet quickly and going to the back of the large hall to grab his bag.

They’d had to leave their bags at the back of the hall to diminish the possibility of cheating.

He found his easily enough and yanked it free, heading out of the hall to wait for Scott. He checked his phone, texting his dad to let him know he was out and free for a call whenever he had his dinner break.

He felt weird while he waited on Scott. He was done his last exam. He was finished his first year of university.

It had been a fucking nightmare, and terrifying, and _hard_ , but he’d survived it and he felt... good. He felt really good. Like his life was kind of falling into place.

He was looking forward to going home and seeing his dad, but he was sad about the seniors all graduating. Of course, they needed to wait for their grades, but he was sad to see them go for next year. He doubted any of them were going to fail, so it was more than likely he’d be stuck alone on campus next year.

He had Scott, of course, but it wouldn’t be the same. He was getting sad thinking about it.

Stiles almost dropped his phone when someone bashed into him and he turned to glare, already knowing it was Jackson.

And of course it was, the asshole smirking smarmily and looking like he was thrilled with his life. He’d probably done well on the exam if he looked that fucking confident.

“Heading home soon?”

Stiles frowned, wondering why he was asking. “Yeah.”

“Hm. Well, should be a fun experience. Can’t wait to get back.”

Stiles had no idea why he was smirking like that, but Jackson didn’t elaborate and walked off before Scott joined him.

The two of them headed in the opposite direction of the dorms, having already agreed to go off-campus for dinner, so they went to the buses and took the first one downtown. Stiles knew he could just get a ride from Derek, but he didn’t want to use him like a taxi service, so he and Scott went downtown and found a cool-looking restaurant to have dinner in.

They laughed and talked about all the things that had happened that year, and about what they were hoping for next year. Stiles knew he couldn’t be an RA as a second year, but he hoped that he had good role models next year because he _really_  wanted to be one for third year. Boyd, Erica, Isaac and Derek were amazing RAs. Even if they hadn’t been his friends, he would’ve loved them, because they cared about their ‘children’ and they were great people.

Supportive, kind, understanding, stern at times. It was just a really great experience for his first year and he had high hopes for next year.

They headed back to campus after dinner, Scott having plans with some friends in one of his classes and Stiles intending to go and see Derek. Isaac was out with Allison, and Boyd and Erica were spending some quality time together—ie: probably fucking.

Derek was alone right now, and that suited Stiles _just_  fine.

“So when’s your flight?” Stiles asked, hands in his pockets and messenger bag hitting his butt with each step he took.

“Eight in the morning.” Scott made a face. “It’s kind of a pain having all my shit packed up and in storage, but I knew our exam would end too late tonight and I won’t have time in the morning.”

“But it’s for a good cause,” Stiles teased and Scott got a dopey smile on his face.

It was Kira’s birthday in two days and Scott wasn’t expected home until _after_  it had passed. But he wanted to be there to surprise her so he’d booked his flight for first thing in the morning after his last exam and was going to pick her up at the airport the following evening when her flight got in.

It was all very romantic, but meant Stiles would be flying back alone the day the dorms closed next Friday. They’d both rented storage lockers for the summer, not wanting to have to lug stuff back and forth across the country, but Stiles could believe how much it would suck having to put away all his stuff before he was ready to go.

Thankfully Stiles had eight days to pack and get out. Derek had already found a place and was getting possession on Wednesday, but he promised he’d still come around the dorm until after Stiles left on the last day.

It was going to be weird, not having Derek around for the whole summer. He knew they’d still text, and he was expecting tons of pictures from both him _and_  Erica of their new places—though Boyd and Erica were still undecided. But it would be different being across the country.

They made it back to the dorm and Stiles gave Scott a bearhug in the stairwell on the second floor. He promised he’d see him in a few days and they parted ways, Stiles waving and heading through the door and into the corridor. Most of the doors were open, parties raging up and down the corridor since the last of the exams had already started, and Stiles grinned because he knew Boyd and Derek were probably just sighing in exasperation at the rowdy bunch of _underage_  drinkers.

To be fair, legal drinking age in most countries was eighteen, and Stiles was _nineteen_  in only three weeks so, really, it should be fine if he wanted to drink.

Not that he did. He wanted Derek. Oh, _man_ , did he ever want Derek!

He unlocked his door and opened it only enough to dump his bag on the floor, then shut and locked it once more before turning to head back for the stairs. He high-fived random people who were drunk and screaming, demanding high-fives, but was quick to duck under any arms trying to wrap around his shoulders and drag him into festivities.

Climbing the stairs quickly, he found every floor was packed with partiers, even the fourth floor. He just laughed and high-fived more people, heading for Derek’s room and stopping to knock on his door.

It opened exceptionally quickly, Derek looking out at him with the most unreadable expression on his face.

“Can I help you?” he asked, but the slight twitch of his mouth showed he was trying not to smile.

“I was hoping I could pick your brain on something, if you have a minute,” Stiles said, trying not to grin.

He’d long ago stopped getting nervous knocking on Derek’s door, because so many people had knocked on his door while Stiles and the others were in there studying. Not only did people know Stiles hung out with the RAs, but even those who didn’t probably assumed he was just there with a question considering _so many people_ knocked on Derek’s door.

“Sure, I’m free.” Derek moved aside and Stiles walked into his room, the door shutting and the lock clicking. Stiles barely heard it over the sound of music and screaming students in the corridor.

When he turned to face Derek, the older man’s hands were already on his face, pulling him closer and slotting their lips together. Stiles pressed back into him hard, loving the taste of him, hands coming up to scratch through his facial hair. God, he loved Derek’s facial hair. He loved _Derek_.

He walked backwards, forcing Derek to follow along, and when he hit the bed, he pulled back so he could fall onto it without his tongue getting bitten off. He grinned up at Derek, shifting backwards up the bed while the other crawled up over him, turning to double-check the door was locked before focussing all his attention on Stiles once more.

“Congratulations on finishing first year.” Derek shifted so Stiles’ head was caged between his forearms, bending down to press his lips lightly along his jaw and up to his ear.

“Congratulations on graduating,” Stiles said, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck and arching his back up into him.

“Not graduated yet. Don’t have my grades.”

“Well then theoretically I haven’t finished my first year,” Stiles insisted, slapping at Derek’s back. “Don’t be a dick.”

“You are what you eat.”

Stiles laughed, tilting his head back so Derek could continue the slow trek along his neck and collarbone. Derek was always very careful not to leave marks, and Stiles sometimes felt guilty for how _careful_  Derek had to be. He wished things could be easier. He felt better than he had since he realized he was gay, but still not comfortable enough to let anyone know he was with Derek.

It was weird having a boyfriend he couldn’t tell anyone about, but he was so, _so_  thankful that Derek was understanding.

They lay on the bed together for a long while, Derek almost crushing him with his considerably larger frame—all muscle, Stiles knew. He’d checked.

It was peaceful, lying in bed with Derek, knowing that exams were over, everyone outside laughing and having a good time. It would be sad when they had to part ways, and even now he could already see Derek beginning to pack away some things for his move on Wednesday, but it was also an exciting new chapter in his life so Stiles wanted to be happy for him.

Derek had _graduated_. Stiles would hopefully follow in three years. And God, three years seemed like an eternity and yet no time at all at the same time. It was so weird, being in university. He had to be an adult and a kid at the same time.

Stiles’ hand was rubbing up and down Derek’s spine, and when he shifted beneath him to get more comfortable, he felt the hard press of Derek’s cock against his leg.

He and Derek hadn’t really done anything remotely sexual since he’d given him his first blowjob. Stiles hadn’t really been comfortable with a lot of things, and while he’d jerked Derek off once, and gotten blown once, they kind of hadn’t gone any further than that.

Stiles knew he wasn’t ready for sex, because he was realistic, and he knew that was _definitely_  not on the table right now, but he _wanted_  to get physical with Derek. He wanted to... he didn’t know. _Do_  something with him. Another handjob, or a blowjob, or _something_.

He shifted beneath Derek again, rolling his hips upwards, and the other man laughed against his neck, rocking down harder into Stiles.

Oh. Oh, that felt nice.

Spreading his legs a bit wider, Stiles rolled his hips upwards again and Derek pulled away slightly, eying him.

“What are you doing?”

“Being intimate?” Stiles asked, shrugging one shoulder and feeling a little nervous. “We should celebrate. You know, _do_  something. I want...” He trailed off, not knowing _what_  he wanted. “I just want us to be intimate, but I don’t... I mean, not sex.”

“No,” Derek agreed quickly. “Definitely not sex.” He watched Stiles for a while longer. “Would you feel comfortable with this?” Derek rocked his hips down hard once more and Stiles let out a hiss, hands gripping at Derek’s biceps tightly, nails digging in.

“Friction is good,” Stiles agreed breathlessly. “I can do that.”

“Then let’s do that,” Derek said with a smirk, beginning to roll his hips downward into Stiles, their cocks rubbing against one another through their jeans. He bent down to kiss Stiles, tongue in his mouth and exploring it almost lazily.

Stiles felt his heart pounding in his chest, and while a small percent of that was fear, a larger percent was excitement and anticipation. He pressed one hand to the back of Derek’s neck, pulling him closer, and tried to match his rhythm, rocking up into him when Derek pressed down.

It felt good. Really good. But at the same time, it was also extremely frustrating. There wasn’t enough friction, and sometimes he had to shift around for the feelings of pleasure to come back. Derek kept breaking the kiss to ask if he was okay because of the movement, and after a few minutes, he pressed one hand to Derek’s chest and he immediately stopped, sitting up.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.

“I’m fine,” Stiles insisted. He felt really comfortable doing this right now, because everyone was being loud and drunk out in the corridor, so there was no risk of anyone catching or hearing them. “It’s just... frustrating. The friction.”

“It’s not ideal, but I want you to be comfortable,” Derek insisted. “I don’t think you’d be comfortable naked.”

“No,” Stiles agreed, biting at the inside of his cheek. He thought for a moment, hesitated, then said, “What about, you know, without pants?”

“In our boxers?” Derek asked, sounding surprised.

“It’s cool if you don’t want to,” Stiles insisted quickly, but Derek just leaned forward to press his lips against his mouth, shutting him up.

“I’m more than okay with that, Stiles. As long as you’re comfortable.”

Letting out a slow breath, Stiles rubbed the back of his head with one hand, the two of them sitting up, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think—I should be okay.” Derek didn’t look convinced, but before he could say anything, Stiles shook his head. “No, I’ll be okay. I will. But uh... lights?”

Derek eyed him suspiciously for a few seconds, kneeling over him and crossing his arms. “You don’t just want the lights off so I can’t see how uncomfortable you are, right?”

“I’m not,” Stiles insisted. “I’m not, I’m just... I’m _nervous_. And I don’t want to have the lights on because, I don’t know, it’s _weird_.”

He was stared at for an additional few seconds, then Derek seemed to believe him because he rolled off the bed and headed for the lightswitch, turning it off. Once the room was mostly dark, only the light coming in through the blinds illuminating anything, Stiles let out a slow breath and then unzipped his jeans. He could hear Derek shuffling around to his right, and figured he was stripping as well.

Stiles kicked his jeans off, then pulled his shirt up over his head. Derek had said their boxers only, and while Stiles was strictly a briefs guy—they were _comfortable_!—he figured that meant _only_  their underwear.

The bed dipped when Derek came back, hovering over him for a few seconds before lowering himself down on top of Stiles. He was also naked barring his shorts, and Stiles felt like every inch of his skin was on fire. Reaching out one hand, he ran it up along Derek’s chest, letting out a soft laugh when he found some chest hair.

“Okay?” Derek asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” Stiles promised, tilting his head up to kiss him. He missed his mouth, catching his chin, but he couldn’t see so he figured he got a pass. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“If you need to stop—”

“I’ll tell you. I will. But I’m fine.”

Stiles spread his legs so Derek could fit more comfortably between them, and slotted their lips together again, arms wrapped around Derek’s neck.

When he rocked his hips down into Stiles’, a loud groan tried to escape him. It was thankfully muffled by the lips against his, and the loud partying outside the door, but Stiles couldn’t have held it back it he tried.

This was better. This was _so_  much better. He could feel the hard line of Derek’s dick against his, and their gyrating hips were definitely helping with the friction. Stiles had to break the kiss, because his breathing was coming faster and it was hard to breathe that quickly through his nose.

He pressed his forehead to Derek’s, and could hear his breathing also quickening. They were so close they were breathing the same air, and Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist, rolling his hips and biting his bottom lip to stop from making any sounds.

“Fuck, oh _fuck_ ,” Stiles hissed, digging his nails into Derek’s back and tensing when he came. It was almost embarrassingly quickly, but he wasn’t exactly the most sexually active person in the world.

Or sexually active at _all_ , really.

Derek didn’t seem to mind, huffing out a small laugh and kissing him again. He was still rocking his hips downward, but less hard, like he was just helping Stiles ride out his orgasm. After a few more seconds, Derek shifted so his cock was pressed against Stiles’ thigh and he started thrusting against it. Stiles just kept holding onto him, his briefs uncomfortable and moist with semen, but he wanted Derek to get off, too.

After a few minutes, he finally followed suit, exhaling harshly against Stiles’ neck and burying his face in his skin. He kissed behind Stiles’ ear once his muscles relaxed and then shifted a bit so he could kiss Stiles’ temple, then his cheek, then his lips.

“That was embarrassing,” Stiles said once they pulled apart.

“No it wasn’t,” Derek insisted.

“Kind of was.” Stiles sighed and let his head fall back on Derek’s pillow. “Now my underwear is gross.”

“Not like you don’t have a drawer of them downstairs.” Derek kissed his temple again, then began to shift off him but Stiles held him tightly, stopping him from moving. “I thought your underwear was gross.”

“It is. But I’m comfortable.” Stiles paused, trying to weigh how he felt. Good. Happy. Content. “This was nice,” he finally said. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me for this, Stiles, it’s weird.” Derek settled on top of him again, having shifted down so his head was on Stiles’ chest, ear pressed against it.

Stiles buried one hand in his hair, scratching at his scalp, and let the other rub up and down his spine, staring up at the dark ceiling.

“Derek?”

“Hm?”

“When I come back. In the fall, I mean. We’re still... I mean, we’re gonna be okay, right? You and me?”

“Yeah, Stiles.” Derek kissed his chest before resting his cheek against it once more. “We’re gonna be just fine. I promise.”

* * *

Derek was grumpy. He was grumpy, and annoyed, and frustrated, but he was trying his best _not_  to snap at the poor girl doing her job.

He’d just spent the entire previous day moving everything from his dorm room to his new apartment. The furniture being delivered had been late, the elevator broke down halfway through the day while he was still fucking _using it_ , and there was a pipe problem in the neighbouring building that had made them shut the water off for a few hours while Derek was _in the shower_.

All in all, not a good first day. He’d gone to bed late and woken up early to try and finish up the rest of what he needed to do, as well as unpack. He’d been in the middle of that when he’d gotten an email saying his diploma was ready to be picked up.

Erica’s parents were coming down for her graduation, so she had no choice but to attend, and Isaac wanted to do the whole shebang, so he’d opted for the ceremony, as well. But Derek and Boyd had better things to do with their time, and decided they were fine just going to the Registrations building to pick up their diplomas.

Boyd had picked his up a few hours prior, and of _course_ , now that it was _Derek’s_  turn, they couldn’t fucking _find_  it!

Again, not the poor girl’s fault, she was doing her best, she was trying to find it, but now he was wondering if maybe he hadn’t actually graduated. That was insane, because he had all his grades, so he _knew_  he had, but a little part of him was like “what if?”

After ten minutes, and the girl’s supervisor coming over to help her out, Derek let out a relieved—if a little annoyed—sigh when the girl finally hurried back over to him holding his diploma.

“Sorry! It was under ‘Derek’ instead of ‘Hale.’ Really sorry.”

“That’s okay,” he forced out, because it _wasn’t_  her fault. “Thank you. Have a good day.”

“You too! And congratulations!”

“Thanks.” He smiled at her as best he could and then turned to leave the building. He made it back to his car and climbed in, tossing the certificate onto the passenger seat and then rubbing his face with both hands.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he scrolled through his contacts for his mother, then hit the call button and pressed it to his ear. It rang a few times before she finally answered, and he smiled when he heard her voice down the line.

_“Hello?”_

“Hey mom.”

_“Derek,”_ she said, tone fond. _“How are you? Did your water problem get sorted out?”_

“Yeah, it’s all fine now.” He looked over at his diploma, pulling it closer so he could stare down at the words, confirming without a shadow of a doubt that he had officially graduated. “I just picked up my diploma.”

_“You did?”_ she asked excitedly. _“Derek, that’s wonderful! Congratulations! Make sure you take a picture, and please, I know it’s a lot to ask, but **please**  frame it. Please? For me?”_

He rolled his eyes, not at all understanding people’s obsession with framing certificates and diplomas, but he obediently said, “I will.”

_“So, all settled then? Ready to start life as an adult?”_

“No,” he said with a small smile. “I’m never growing up. I didn’t get that memo, sorry.”

_“Cute. How’s everything?”_

“It’s fine. Good. Still pissed about all the shit from yesterday, but I should be unpacked by end of day tomorrow, at the latest. I’m gonna get as much done today as I can, but I’m going to dinner with Stiles, Erica, Boyd and Isaac later so that’s gonna take up most of my evening.”

_“Mm. Dorms close soon, don’t they?”_

“Yeah, tomorrow. Erica and Boyd are still deliberating between two places, but if they don’t hurry up, they’ll end up kicked out with nowhere to go. Isaac’s all packed up and heading out tomorrow evening. Stiles is leaving first thing tomorrow morning.”

Derek was sad that Stiles was heading out already, but he knew he was excited to head home and see his dad. Derek hoped he got to meet the man one day, even if it was just as Stiles’ friend. He sounded like a great man, and anyone who could raise someone like Stiles had to be amazing.

He hoped any conversations he and Stiles had over the summer went well. He knew Stiles wasn’t going to admit he was gay, but he was going to start off a few conversations about the LGBTQ+ community as a whole, so he was really hoping things went well.

_“Stiles sounds so adorable, Derek. I’m so proud of you for taking him under your wing like you have. He must really look up to you.”_

“Yeah, it’s been a really interesting year.” He couldn’t really say much more than that, because he didn’t want to _lie_  to his mother, but he couldn’t tell her Stiles was his boyfriend.

He’d promised _no one_ would know, and he meant it.

They chatted idly for a while longer, his mother confirming that she was picking Cora up in a few days and that they might drive down to see him. Laura was still busy, and they didn’t want to bother her, but they also had plans to head out her way closer to August. Derek was hoping he could get time off to go with them, but he didn’t know yet so he supposed he’d find out when he started the following Monday.

After a few more minutes, Derek said he had to go or he wouldn’t beat traffic, so they said their farewells and he hung up. Starting the car, he eased onto the main road and headed for the campus exit, feeling weird to realize he was leaving it for good. Sure, he’d be back to visit Stiles, and he was coming back in literally a few hours, but this wasn’t _his_  campus anymore.

He was a graduate. This wasn’t his turf anymore. It was weird.

Easing to a stop at a red light, he was only two minutes from being off the campus when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it while he waited for the light to change, the vibrations continuing for a few seconds before dying down. The light changed and he started driving, just as his phone started vibrating again.

He ignored it once more, continuing on his way, but when the call ended and started up immediately for a third time, he figured it was urgent and raised his hips so he could pull it out of his pocket, checking the screen quickly and really hoping he didn’t run into any cops.

It was Boyd, so he swiped to answer and brought the phone to his ear.

“Hey, I was ju—”

_“Where are you?”_ Boyd interrupted, voice tight and the stress extremely clear in his tone.

Derek frowned. “I just left camp—”

_“You need to come back right now,”_ Boyd interrupted again.

He’d never heard him sound so worried, and Derek could hear Erica in the background, her voice shrill. It sounded like she was banging on something.

“What’s going on? Is Eri—”

_“Derek, you need to come back **right now**. It’s Stiles.”_

It felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of cold water over his head, and Derek’s hand tightened around his phone.

“I’ll be right there.”

Hanging up, he tossed the phone aside, and did a U-turn at the next light, not caring that it was illegal. He made sure it was safe to do so, but he literally didn’t care if a cop came after him right now, because hearing those words, and the stress in Boyd’s tone, and knowing Stiles’ secret...

Someone had found out.

Someone had found out, and Stiles was panicking, and the others didn’t know what to do, and oh God, was he okay? Was Stiles okay? Why was Erica banging on something? Was Stiles in his room? Oh Jesus _God_ , was Stiles okay?!

Derek didn’t know what a panic attack felt like. He’d never had one himself. Even when his dad had rejected him, disowned him, walked away from him. He’d been hurt, and upset, but he hadn’t had a panic attack.

Now, he felt like he was having one. It was hard to breathe, like someone was constricting the air entering his lungs and he found himself struggling to suck in oxygen through his mouth. Oh God, what had happened? _What_  had _happened_?!

It couldn’t be the secret! It couldn’t! They’d been _so careful_! So fucking careful! It had to be something else, please _fuck_ , let it be something else!

Derek sped through campus, knowing he was driving erratically and that he might hurt someone, but his brain was only playing one track on a loop, and all it said was, “get to Stiles, get to Stiles, get to Stiles...”

He slammed into a parking spot as close to the dorm as he could, no longer having a parking pass but not caring if his car got towed. He threw open the door and raced for the dorm, barely remembering to lock the car up.

Isaac was waiting for him in the lobby since Derek didn’t have his key anymore. The front door was plastered with posters, but Derek didn’t pay them any mind, hurrying forward and Isaac pushed the door open for him, looking pale and worried. Derek hurried past him towards the stairwell, Isaac following quickly.

“Boyd went to get his key. He won’t open his door.”

Derek had just opened his mouth to ask what had happened when he realized the posters from the front door were plastered all over the stairwell too, and his eyes actually focussed on them and he slammed to a halt, Isaac actually bashing into him and falling back a step from the force of it.

Derek’s heart was in his fucking shoes, because the posters were fucking _everywhere_  and all of them were a fairly clear picture of him and Stiles kissing in his bedroom, very obviously taken through a window.

The caption above it read, _I always knew you were a faggot, Stilinski._

Derek was fucking _devastated_ , but on the heels of that was anger. Rage. _Fury_. He grabbed the closest sign and ripped it off the wall turning to brandish it threateningly at Isaac, who backed up a step, looking a little scared.

“Who did this?” he demanded furiously.

“We don’t kno—”

Derek shoved the page so hard into Isaac that he stumbled down two steps. “Find out!” he shouted, then turned and raced for the stairwell door.

He wrenched it open and found the corridor half-full of people. Most of them looked really worried, but Derek snapped at them all to get the fuck out of there, racing down the corridor to where Erica was banging on Stiles’ door.

She was crying, and her voice was high-pitched and borderline hysterical. She turned when she saw Derek out of the corner of her eye and it looked like that was making her cry even harder.

“He won’t open the door! Derek, he won’t _say_ anything! He has _knives_ in his room, Derek! He hasn’t said anything in _minutes_!”

Derek _refused_  to believe Stiles would do that. He _refused_  to believe that Stiles would go down that road without talking to him.

But then, Derek should’ve been his first call. The second this happened, Derek should’ve gotten a phone call, and he hadn’t.

And Derek’s face was on those posters. The only reason this was happening was because of Derek.

He’d pushed Stiles to reveal himself. He’d forced him into admitting he was gay. They’d gotten close, they’d gotten together, and now, Stiles was out.

Stiles was _out_ , and this... this wasn’t right. This was _his_. This was something _he_  got to tell people, that _he_  admitted. This wasn’t something for someone to take from him and Derek was going to _murder_  the person who’d taken that photo.

He didn’t even know _when_  it was taken! Or _how_! Derek _never_  left his blinds open, _ever_! He was so careful about it! He and Stiles had always been so, _so_  careful!

Trying not to think about how it had happened, he just knew he had to get to Stiles. He had to make sure he was okay. Had to make sure _he was okay_!

Easing Erica aside rougher than he’d intended to, he banged hard on the door and said, “Stiles, open the door.”

No answer.

“Stiles, I need you to open the door, right now. I promise, we can-we can talk about this. We can work through this. I promise everything’s going to be okay. But I need you to open the door.”

Silence.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Erica’s words about knives were starting to make his skin itch and he felt his heartrate increase and Jesus _Christ_ , if Stiles had done something stupid, if Stiles had done something _irreversible_ , Derek was going to fucking lose it. He would fucking _lose it_!

“Stiles,” Derek forced out, voice tight and hands on either side of the door, braced against the frame, “I need you to open the door. _Please_. Stiles, _please_  open the door.”

Erica was still crying behind him, loud gasping sobs that were doing _nothing_  for his nerves. Stiles was okay. He was _okay_.

Well, no. No he wasn’t. He was far from okay. But he wasn’t... he _hadn’t_... he wouldn’t _ever_!

“Stiles, please. Open the door.”

Nothing.

“Open the door. Stiles, open—open the door!” He started banging on the door again, his stress levels through the roof the longer the silence persisted. “Stiles, open the door! Open the _fucking_ door! Stiles _open the door_!”

The stairwell door opened and both he and Erica turned to it, Boyd racing down the corridor.

“No one was at the desk, so I climbed over it and had to find his key.” He brandished it and before he could say anything else, Derek wrenched it from his hand and turned to slot it into the lock.

His hands were shaking so badly that it took him three tries before he got it in and he turned it, the door unlocking. He immediately pushed it open, but hit the wooden surface hard when he found the chainlink on, stopping the door from opening more than a few inches.

He didn’t even stop to think about it, he just pulled back and then rammed his shoulder into the door _hard_. The metal piece was ripped out of the wall and he stumbled into the room, eyes desperately searching for Stiles in a huge sweep.

Desk. Empty. Bed. Empty.

His eyes turned to the closet and he looked down between the end of the bed and the closet door and found Stiles there. The space was so small Derek couldn’t fit when he hastily bent down, but he didn’t worry about that and just shoved his upper body in sideways, desperately reaching out for Stiles to make sure.

To just fucking _make sure_!

No blood. He wasn’t bleeding. He hadn’t... thank God. Thank _God_!

He was sitting with his back pressed against the wall, firmly wedged between the bed and his closet. His knees were drawn up to his chest, one arm wrapped around them and his face buried in them. His other hand was digging nails into the sensitive skin of his neck, leaving behind angry red lines, some of which had broken skin.

Derek grabbed at his wrist to pull it away but Stiles just tensed and didn’t let him yank it back.

“Stiles,” Derek said, voice coming out broken. “Stiles, it’s _okay_. It’s okay, I promise. I _promise_. It’s okay.”

He didn’t move. He didn’t look up. He didn’t react at all. He just sat there, nails digging into his neck, muscles tensed, and unmoving.

“I’ll go find someone,” Boyd said from behind him.

Derek whipped around and grabbed at his pantleg with his free hand.

“No! Don’t—” Derek cut off, not even sure what he wanted to say. “More people won’t help this situation. Trust me.”

“Derek, we have no idea how to deal with this,” Boyd insisted quietly, looking extremely worried. “We need to tell someone.”

“Boyd, trust me. Right now, the last thing he wants is for someone else to walk in here.”

Erica was behind him hugging herself. She was still crying, but it was the soft, hitched breath kind of crying now as opposed to the loud, gasping sobs from moments before.

The two of them were staring at him, looking lost, worried and scared. Derek knew how they felt, because it was how he felt, too. But he knew Stiles well enough to know he did _not_  want more people there. Right now, he just wanted to disappear, and after all the shit Derek had just put him through, the least he could do was respect that one thing.

Boyd stared at Derek for a long while before he finally said, “I’m not leaving.”

“I’m not leaving!” Erica repeated, inhaling sharply and then moving to the bed. “I’m _not_  leaving!”

She was acting like Derek had just asked her to.

Erica climbed onto the bed and reached down to grip one of Stiles’ shoulders tightly. He tensed even further, but otherwise didn’t move. Derek heard the door shut and turned to see Isaac carefully closing it. He looked scared of Derek, like he thought he was going to jump down his throat again, but as mad as Derek was, he knew this was where they needed to be right now.

He hadn’t meant to freak out at Isaac, he was just furious and devastated and _terrified_.

Turning back to Stiles, he tried again to pull his wrist back so he wasn’t clawing at his neck, but Stiles was strong when he was upset, because he didn’t budge.

Boyd and Isaac climbed onto the bed with Erica, but Stiles was so wedged into his little spot that it was difficult for any of them to get near him. Derek was the closest, and only because half his body was twisted at an uncomfortable angle.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly. “Stiles, it’s gonna be okay. I promise you, it’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out. We’ll... We will get through this. I promise. I’m right here. I’m right here, Stiles. I’m not going anywhere.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Boyd said quietly. “We’re staying right here with you.”

Derek knew nothing they said would be good enough. This wasn’t about them, it was about his dad. Derek wondered if he knew yet. He wondered if Scott did.

Who the fuck had _done_  this?! When Derek found out, they were getting expelled. He didn’t care who he had to go after to make it so, but he was getting the person who did this fucking _expelled_! Hell, _arrested_ , if he could manage it.

This wasn’t right. This was _not_  right! No one had the right to take something like this away from someone. This was _Stiles’_  choice, it was up to _him_  when he told, and who, and in what capacity. It was _not_  something someone posted all over the _fucking_  dorm!

Did this person know Stiles at _all_?! He had panic attacks about this! He was so fucking _terrified_  of being found out and now...

Now he was out.

Because of Derek.

Because of _Derek_.

Derek felt the back of his throat itch, his eyes stinging, like he was going to start crying.

Fuck, this was _all_  his fault.

“Stiles, I’m sorry,” he said, voice strained and hand tightening around his wrist. “Stiles, I’m so fucking sorry. I wanted to help. I just-I just wanted to _help_. I didn’t mean—I _never_  meant for this to happen. It _shouldn’t_  have happened, and I just—I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Stiles. But it’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna get through this. We’re here for you, I promise. It’s all gonna be okay.”

Stiles didn’t move.

It didn’t even look like he was breathing.

He remained motionless and tense, and Derek’s arm was going numb from his position, but he refused to move. He refused to leave him. He _refused_  to let him feel any worse than he already did.

Derek talked to him for close to an hour, insisting he would be fine, that they would figure this out, that they could talk about this, that everything would be okay. He talked so much his throat hurt, and his eyes watered, and he wanted to scream and punch someone and tear the fucking world apart because _this wasn’t right_!

When his voice started getting scratchy, Erica took over and insisted Stiles was amazing, and so smart, and wonderful, and she was so jealous of Derek. She loved him. Erica loved him so much, and Stiles was so fucking perfect exactly as he was, and this would be okay, it would all be okay, because he was Stiles and it would be okay.

Isaac and Boyd chimed in as time passed, the four of them keeping up a constant loop of chatter, trying to beat it into Stiles’ brain that he was _perfect_  and _amazing_  and _loved_. Because they loved him so much, and he was perfect just the way he was, and he would be okay, he would be okay, _he would be okay_.

Derek couldn’t feel his arm anymore when the four hour mark hit, but still he didn’t move. He just kept occasionally pulling at Stiles’ arm, trying to get him to stop clawing at his neck.

Four hours and seven minutes after he’d broken down his door, Stiles let him.

He didn’t say anything, but when Derek tugged, Stiles let him have his way, arm going limp and being pulled entirely away from Stiles’ neck. It was progress. Derek would take it, because it was progress.

“Stiles,” he said softly, heart shattered to dust in his chest. “Stiles, please say something. Tell me what to do. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Stiles was silent for a long moment, then he said, “Leave.”

Derek didn’t know how he had enough of a heart left to break, but it somehow managed, because his chest _ached_  and his throat tightened and he couldn’t breathe and—

“I want to leave,” Stiles said, voice muffled in his knees. “I can’t—I need... I can’t go home. I can’t. I need to...”

“Okay,” Derek said immediately. “Okay, Stiles, that’s okay. You can come back with me. We can go to my place. We’ll go to my place, okay? We’ll get you out of here, it’ll be okay.”

Stiles didn’t look like he wanted to unfold himself. It took an additional half hour for him to finally shift and slowly start to emerge from against the wall. Derek had to back out of the space, and his arm and side exploded with pins and needles, the feeling extremely painful, but he ignored it and just shifted back so Stiles could crawl out.

Once he did, he just fell into Derek’s chest, gripping his shirt with both hands.

And that was when he started to cry.

Stiles had been silent the entire time they’d been in the room with him, but now, now he broke down. He sobbed into Derek’s chest, tugging harshly at his shirt, and Derek just wrapped his arms around him, held him, promised he would be okay, that everything would be okay.

Erica was on the floor beside them, hugging at whatever part of Stiles she could reach. Isaac had to hug around her, and Boyd just placed a strong, comforting hand onto Stiles’ shoulder since there was no room left for him.

They all held him tightly while he cried, voices overlapping while they insisted everything was going to be okay.

It took an additional forty minutes for the tears to stop, and then Stiles went back to being silent and numb. When Derek stood, he managed to get Stiles up with him, cradling his face in his hands and kissing his forehead, eyes closed and eyebrows down in a pained frown.

“I’ll fix this, Stiles,” he insisted, pulling back but keeping his hands on his face. “I’ll fix this, I promise.”

Stiles didn’t say anything. He just stared at the ground, tear tracks on his face and eyes hollow.

Derek was going to murder the motherfucker who’d done this to Stiles.

Looking up at the others, he said, “Can you finish packing up his room? I’ll pay for the door, but I don’t want him coming back here.”

“Yeah,” Isaac said, nodding. “Of course. Yeah.”

Most of the room was packed up already, since a bunch of stuff had gone into storage that morning—Derek knew because Boyd had been helping Stiles with it. The only things still around were items he’d been planning on taking home with him the following day.

And _fuck_ Stiles was meant to _go home_ tomorrow. Derek didn’t know how he was going to get him on that plane. He probably wouldn’t.

“We’ll drop it off later,” Boyd said quietly. “We’ve got this. You take care of him, we’ll handle the rest.”

“Thanks.” He felt guilty looking at his friends, because he hadn’t told them. He hadn’t said anything about this, and to have it come out like this... “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Boyd said, shaking his head. “Just take care of him. We’ll come by later.”

Derek nodded a thanks, wrapped an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, and pulled open the door, dragging him out of the room and towards the stairs. There were people out in the corridor, packing and chatting and moving stuff, but they all froze when they saw Derek and Stiles.

Derek just pulled Stiles’ face further into his chest and walked quickly, the other stumbling slightly since he wasn’t keeping up. Derek just glared at people when they looked too long until they finally looked somewhere else and then pushed through the stairwell door.

He kept Stiles’ face in his chest, since the posters were still up all over the place.

This was a mess.

A fucking _mess_.

And it was all Derek’s fault.

* * *

“We can stay,” Boyd said. “If you need us to. We can stay.”

Derek was exhausted, and upset, and guilty, and he didn’t know what to do. He wanted nothing more than to tell Boyd _yes_ , please stay, but he couldn’t. Because this was a mess he’d made, and no amount of people staying by Stiles’ side was going to help him right now unless the person beside him was his dad.

And Derek didn’t know how to make that happen, or he’d have done it by now.

If his dad even _wanted_  anything to do with Stiles anymore.

“I don’t think it’ll make a difference,” he admitted softly, not unkindly. “He just... he needs time.”

Boyd nodded slowly, glancing out Derek’s apartment door. Erica and Isaac were in the corridor, looking tired and miserable, but neither said anything. Boyd faced Derek again and took a step forward, wrapping him in a tight hug before slapping his back once and pulling away.

“We’re here for him. And for you. Okay?”

“Thanks Boyd.”

He nodded, then turned to exit the apartment, wrapping an arm around Erica’s shoulders and kissing her temple. The other two waved at Derek, a bit muted, and the three of them headed down the corridor to the elevator. Derek closed and locked his door, rubbing his face with both hands and letting out a sigh.

This whole thing was a mess. A mess he’d created that he didn’t know how to fix.

He’d brought Stiles home, and had tried to get him to talk to him, but he refused. He just curled up in Derek’s bed, wrapping himself up like a burrito in the covers, and hadn’t moved for hours. Boyd and the others had made only one trip between the dorm and the apartment with Stiles’ things, and then had stayed.

While Erica was cuddling with Stiles, Derek had admitted to Boyd and Isaac that he’d ended up finding his Halloween date and that he and Stiles had been together for a while. They weren’t upset about him not telling them, they understood that it was because Stiles wasn’t out, but they were upset about the fact that Stiles was too scared to tell them.

Derek knew it wasn’t like that. Boyd did too, despite how he felt. Isaac kept thinking he’d done something wrong, that maybe he’d made too many jokes about sucking dicks or fucking each other and that he was the reason Stiles was too scared to tell them.

It had been an emotional, stressful and exhausting day, and it wasn’t going to get any easier. Derek wished it would. Not even for himself, but for Stiles. He just wanted to fix this for him. He wanted to make everything okay.

Heading back into the room, he sighed at Stiles’ buried form, only the top of his head poking out from the blankets. Derek had no idea what he was going to do. He started his co-op on Monday, which was only three days away, but he couldn’t leave Stiles like this. He couldn’t leave him and he didn’t know what to do. He was positive Stiles wasn’t getting on his flight tomorrow, and he had no idea how to convince him to.

Sitting down on the bed beside him, he reached out one hand to bury it in his boyfriend’s hair, running his fingers through the strands.

“Stiles. Stiles, I’m gonna need you to get up and eat something.”

Silence.

“You can’t stay here forever, Stiles. We need to talk about this. We need to get you ready for your flight.”

“No,” Stiles’ muffled voice said. “I’m not going home.”

“Stiles, your dad will—”

“Hate me,” Stiles said, voice strained. “My dad will hate me. I can’t go back there. I can’t.”

Derek sighed, rubbing his face with his free hand and opened his mouth to say something when Stiles curled in more on himself.

“Just go away, Derek. Please just go away.”

He didn’t want to. He never wanted to leave him again. But he knew this was his fault, because he’d pushed, because he’d insisted they could keep this a secret.

Because he’d wanted him, and had been selfish about it.

He couldn’t deny Stiles anything he wanted right now, so he just bent down to kiss whatever part of his head was still poking out of the blankets, and then left the room, shutting the door behind himself. His only consolation was that Stiles hadn’t gone for anything sharp.

At least not yet.

Derek went to stand in his living room for a long while, staring at nothing. After about ten minutes, he went towards his front door and pulled his phone out. Turning to lean against the wood, he pulled up a contact in his phone, hit the call button, then placed it to his ear.

It was late, and he’d forgotten about the time, but it didn’t stop a very tired person from answering.

_“Hello?”_

“I fucked up,” he whispered, feeling his throat itch and his eyes burn. He buried his free hand in his hair and slowly slid to the floor, clenching his eyes shut and bowing his head. “Mom, I fucked up so bad.”

_“Derek? Honey, what are you talking about? What happened?”_

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, struggling to keep his voice even, despite the fact he felt like he was falling apart. “Mom, I can’t fix this and I don’t know what to do.”

_“Derek. Sweetheart. It’s gonna be okay. Please, take a deep breath, and tell me what’s wrong.”_

It was hard taking a breath, calming himself down, but he somehow managed it, exhaling shakily before he started explaining the situation.

He started from the beginning, because he had to start from the beginning. And he felt guilty, even now, admitting Stiles’ secret to someone who didn’t know it, but he had no other choice. He didn’t know what to do, how to fix this, how to _help_  Stiles. He knew nothing about his friends and family barring Scott, and Scott hadn’t even been close enough to him or any of the others for them to have exchanged phone numbers.

Scott was only around because of Stiles. Because they’d liked Stiles. They’d cared about Stiles.

And Derek had ruined everything. Even if Stiles didn’t hate him, which he had every right to, Derek felt like he’d broken him.

“Mom, I don’t know what to do.”

He heard her let out a small sigh on the other end. _“Just be there for him, for now. Make sure you keep him hydrated. I’ll be there in a few hours, okay?”_

He hadn’t been expecting that, but he was _so_ thankful. He needed an adult. He needed someone who knew what to fucking _do_ because Derek was only twenty-two and he was nowhere _near_ being an adult and he had no fucking idea _what to do_!

“Thank you. Mom, _thank you_.”

_“You have nothing to thank me for. Just keep him hydrated. I’ll see you in a few hours.”_

She hung up.

Derek pressed his phone against his forehead and let out a slow breath, eyes closing. He couldn’t get Stiles to eat, so he doubted he could get him to drink anything. He didn’t know when Stiles had last had anything to eat or drink. He didn’t even know when he’d last gone to the bathroom, because he hadn’t since Derek had met up with him and fuck he was going to _murder_  whoever had done this.

He wanted to obey his mom though, so he grabbed a cup from his kitchen, filled it with water, and went back to the bedroom. He expected another plea for him to go away, but after coaxing Stiles out of his cocoon for almost ten minutes, he finally got him to sit up and take a few sips of water.

That was about all he managed though, because Stiles went right back to burying himself in the blankets. Derek set the mug down and lay behind him over the covers, pulling Stiles into his chest and holding him tightly. He couldn’t do anything else.

Derek ended up falling asleep and was jolted awake by his phone ringing. He hastily grabbed for it, not wanting the vibrations to wake Stiles, since he was also sleeping, breathing deep and even. He rolled off the bed and answered his phone, voice scratchy with sleep.

“Hello?”

_“I’m downstairs. Can you come let me in?”_

“Yeah.” Derek wandered into the kitchen, catching the time on the stove. It was just after six in the morning. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

He hung up and left the apartment, but didn’t bother locking the door. He took the stairs down, not wanting to wait for the elevator, and pushed out into the lobby. He could see his mother with a small rolling suitcase at her side through the glass doors and his throat itched again at the sight of her.

Pushing open the door, she walked into the building, let go of her suitcase, and pulled Derek into a hug. He buried his face in her neck, exhaling shakily, and held her with everything he had. Because this was the woman who had made sure Derek didn’t break. This was the person who had saved him when his father had rejected him.

Derek loved his mother. He loved her so fucking much. And because he did, he could understand how Stiles felt. Because if he’d lost her too, if he’d lost her like he had his father, he never would’ve survived. He wouldn’t have made it this far. He would’ve fallen apart.

Just like Stiles.

“Are you okay?” she asked, pulling away and cupping his face in her hands.

“It’s not me I’m—”

“Derek,” she cut off, giving his head one small shake, “are you okay?”

He stared at her for a long moment, feeling his eyes beginning to burn, and shook his head. “No, mom. I’m not. I _did_  this to him.”

“You listen to me, Derek Hale,” she ordered, giving him another shake. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Understand? You tried to help him, and you _succeeded_. You made him happy, you helped him, and someone who had no right took his comfort away from him. He’s angry, and confused, and hurt. And I know he is, because it’s how you were. He is struggling, but we’ll make this right again, okay? We can’t fix this, because nobody can fix something like this, but we will help him, we will heal him, and he will get through this. And so will you.” She kissed his cheek, then released him and reached for her bag. “Come. I don’t want to leave him alone too long.”

Derek nodded, struggling to compose himself, and turned to lead the way to the elevator. It opened when he hit the ‘up’ button and they climbed in, waiting for the doors to close and the lift to rise to his floor. He walked down the corridor to his apartment and pushed open the door, his mother following him in.

She looked around only briefly, because this was her first time there, but he was sure she would talk about it with him some other time. They had something else to deal with right now.

Leaving her bag in the living room, she and Derek headed down the corridor to his room and he pushed open the door.

Stiles was awake, now. Derek could tell because of how rigid he was, his breathing a little faster than normal, but not like he was going to have a panic attack. Derek glanced at his mother, who touched his shoulder gently, then went towards the bed. She took a seat beside Stiles and reached out one hand to run her fingers through his hair.

It occurred to Derek that he’d picked up a lot of comforting mannerisms from his mother. He’d never noticed that until this moment. He didn’t think he did them as well as she did.

“Hello Stiles,” she said softly, voice calm and comforting. “My name is Talia. I’m Derek’s mother. I was hoping that you and I could have a chat, if you’re up for it.”

Stiles just curled in more on himself. Derek felt like he might’ve told her to go away, except her presence was so calm and comforting. Derek had tried his best, but he was in agony over Stiles’ pain and terror, so he couldn’t fully be calm like his mother.

She was just a third party who didn’t know anything about Stiles other than that he needed help, and she was going to help him.

“I know you’re scared, honey,” his mother said softly. “I know that you don’t want to face the world, because it’s so hard to face something like this, but I’d like to ask you to please give me some of your time so we can talk about this.”

Derek noticed she’d said ‘ask’ instead of ‘need.’ Derek had spent this whole time saying things like, “I _need_  you to open the door. I _need_  you to talk to me. I _need_  you to eat something.” He’d never once _asked_  Stiles to do something.

His mother really was amazing.

“I’m going to go to the kitchen with Derek. We’re going to make some breakfast, and when you’re feeling up to it, I’d really like it if you would join us. It doesn’t have to be now, or in five minutes, or even in an hour. But it would be really nice to see you in the kitchen with us today, all right?” She bent down to kiss at his head, then stood and motioned for Derek to leave.

He didn’t want to, because he felt like she should’ve pushed more, but maybe that was the problem. Derek was either pushing too much or giving up, because he didn’t know what to do. His mother had requested he join them when _he_  was ready. She hadn’t pushed, and she hadn’t abandoned, and Derek had so fucking much to learn about how to deal with things like this.

He’d always thought he was pretty good at making people feel better, but his mother was way out of his league.

They went back to the kitchen and Derek sat at the counter while his mother went about pulling things from the fridge and pantry to make breakfast. She had to open various cupboards, because she didn’t know where anything was, and Derek couldn’t remember, either.

“Has he been in touch with anyone?” she asked while she stood at the stove, making eggs and cooked ham.

Derek shook his head. “No. His one friend from home left a couple days ago, and I don’t know if he’s touched base with him yet.”

“So his father hasn’t heard from him?” His mother turned to Derek.

He shook his head, rubbing his face. “He’s meant to be on a plane in two hours. I don’t think he’s going to make that.”

“Mm.” She faced the stove again, going silent for a moment. “We need to make sure his father is contacted. He’ll be worried about him.”

“If he cares,” Derek said quietly.

He hadn’t meant to speak the words aloud, but he saw his mother’s shoulders tense and then she turned off the stove, moving the pan to another burner. She turned to face him, bracing both hands against the counters, and stared intently at Derek.

“Your father is not a kind person. He is not understanding, or supportive, or dare I say, _intelligent_. He reacted poorly to the news you broke to us, and even now, he doesn’t know how to understand what happened. But despite all this, and despite what you might think, I _know_  your father loves you. In his own way. He’s confused, and angry, and he doesn’t understand. He probably never _will_  understand. But if something happened to you, if you were hurt, or in danger, or _needed_  him, your father would be here for you.” She reached out to grip one of his hands tightly. “I know your relationship with him hasn’t been the best since you came out, and I know you haven’t spoken in a few years, but he asks about you. He won’t reach out to you, because he’s stubborn and hateful, but he checks in with your sisters. He makes sure you’re okay. He would care if you were hurt. Stiles’ father will care, regardless of how he feels about his orientation. He will care, and he will want to know he’s safe, even if he never wants to speak to him again.”

“Mom, he has no one else,” Derek insisted softly. “He has no one else, and you can’t—you can’t _base_  this off our experience. Maybe dad’s a dick who still wants me to be okay, but not everyone is like that. Grant’s parents weren’t like that.”

Grant was one of the gay guys in his high school who’d helped Derek when he’d been struggling with how he felt. His parents had kicked him out when he was sixteen and had come out to them. His best friend’s parents had taken him in, and while Derek only spoke to him once or twice a year when he was back home and they crossed paths, he knew even now that his parents wanted nothing to do with him. They ignored they’d ever had a son, and they legitimately _did not care_ what happened to him.

There were three different reactions to situations like this. Total and complete hatred like Grant’s parents, anger and disgust with a conscience to ensure well-being like Derek’s father, and unconditional love and support no matter what like Derek’s mother.

Stiles’ father could very well be like Grant’s parents. Derek didn’t know, because he didn’t _know_  him. He didn’t want to find out that he wasn’t understanding because if Stiles lost him, Derek would never forgive himself. He would feel fucking awful, because he knew how much the man meant to Stiles.

He was his fucking _everything_. The only reason Stiles was a mess was because of him.

Derek jumped and spun when he heard a noise behind him and found Stiles standing awkwardly just beyond the corridor. He had the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and he looked like absolute shit, but he was up and that was definitely an improvement from yesterday.

His mother smiled, pulling her hand back from Derek’s. “Hello Stiles. Thank you for joining us. Would you like something to eat?”

He shook his head, and while he didn’t come forward, he didn’t retreat, either.

“That’s okay. I understand if you’re not hungry. Maybe some toast later, when you’re feeling up to it. Can I get you something to drink? You should drink something, it will make you feel better.”

Stiles shrugged one shoulder, but she took it as agreement and grabbed a cup from one of Derek’s cupboards, filling it with water and moving to set it on the edge of the counter furthest away from her and Derek.

She had finished making breakfast and Derek was almost done eating it before Stiles finally moved forward to take his cup of water.

It was going to be another extremely long and emotional day.

* * *

Derek’s mother stayed with them from the moment she arrived until well past ten that evening. She managed to get Stiles to eat some toast and take a shower, which was already tons more than Derek had managed, but he didn’t feel like talking and he refused to let anyone call his dad. The only access they had to his number was Stiles’ phone, and it wasn’t until hours later when it was nearing eight at night that Derek realized he might be able to get his dad’s number from the university.

As RAs, Derek and Boyd had a number they could call for the school to get contact information in case of an emergency with one of the kids in their dorms. The number wouldn’t be manned anymore, with the dorms shut down for the summer, but he tried calling it anyway.

As predicted, a voicemail picked up indicating the school year was over and that someone would get back to them at their earliest opportunity. Derek hung up and wished he’d thought of it even one day before. He figured he’d try calling the school in the morning, because there would be someone in the main building. Summer classes would be starting up, so even if the dorms were closed, the school itself wasn’t, and he was sure he could find someone to give him Stiles’ emergency contact.

His mother left to stay in a hotel, since Derek’s apartment was too small to accommodate her. He offered his couch, scared to be left alone with Stiles, but she insisted he would be fine and that she’d be back in the morning.

When Derek went to the bedroom, Stiles was buried in his blankets again. He just crawled into bed behind him, hugging him tightly, and sighed.

“I love you, Stiles.” He knew it wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but Derek needed him to know that. “I promise, no matter what, I’m here for you. Boyd and Erica and Isaac are here for you. They love you, and you’re perfect, and we’ll help you. I promise.”

Isaac had delayed his flight home and was crashing with Boyd and Erica. They all wanted to make sure Stiles would be okay before they parted ways. He knew they wanted to visit again, but Derek had admitted his mother was in town to help so they were keeping their distance until their presence was welcome.

Derek didn’t think anyone’s presence was currently welcome, but Stiles was at least nice enough not to tell Derek to fuck off every time he came near him.

He was in that space between being awake and drifting off when he shifted positions and felt something hard underneath him. He did his best to ignore it at first, but it was actually digging painfully into his hip so he pulled himself back from unconsciousness and shifted slightly. He reached down with one hand to find what it was and brought it close to his face.

It looked like a phone, but he didn’t recognize it. His phone was in his other pocket, and it took his tired brain a few seconds to realize whose phone it was.

Sitting up, he glanced at Stiles and then silently left the room. Once he was in the safety of the living room, he turned the phone on. The screen remained black, and he realized it had been two days since Stiles had last charged it. Thankfully it was an Iphone so he and Stiles had the same charger.

Easing silently back into the room, he unplugged his charger from the wall by Stiles’ side of the bed and went back to the living room. He plugged it into the closest socket to the couch, then sat down and pushed the other end into the phone. It stayed black for a few long seconds before the apple logo appeared.

It didn’t go to his home screen for about two minutes, needing to charge at least a little bit. Derek saw notifications beginning to come in and he hastily lowered the volume to avoid waking Stiles with the constant dinging.

When it seemed to be done catching up on everything he’d missed, Derek stared at the alerts on his phone.

He had over eighty text messages, and it looked like he had so many missed calls the phone hadn’t been able to keep up with them. Derek hesitated, then swiped the bottom, letting out a slow sigh when the phone unlocked.

Stiles didn’t have a password. Thank God.

Staring at all the icons, he found a lot of games on his phone, but figured that was normal. Stiles wasn’t on his phone very much, but he was probably like everyone else, playing games or listening to music while on the bus, or heading to and from class alone. Hell, he probably played games in the bathroom, that was kind of a common thing nowadays.

He didn’t want to check anything that had come in, mostly because he was a coward and didn’t want to see how much he’d fucked up Stiles’ life, but he had to know how bad it was. He had to know if he’d totally ruined everything for him.

Hesitating for only a moment, he hit the messages and waited for the window to load. He saw ‘Old Man Stilinski’ at the top, and knew that had to be Stiles’ father. He was too scared to check that one, so he scrolled down and decided to start at the bottom. The messages went on for way too long, from dozens of different people, so he just hit a random one, hoping for the best, and was sorely disappointed.

**[Aiden]**  
always knew u were a faggot

Not encouraging. Definitely not encouraging. He hoped the next one was better.

**[Malia]**  
guess that explains why you could never get it up

Derek covered his mouth with one hand, his heart beginning to pound in his chest. This was bad. This was so, so bad. What if all the messages were like this? What if everyone from back home was saying things like this? What if _Scott_  said things like this?

“Shit,” Derek hissed, but he was only two messages in. He’d started about ten or eleven messages down, so there was still hope. He’d only seen two. It would be okay.

Letting out a slow breath, he hit the next one.  
  
**[Greenburg]**  
jacksons a dick  
**[Greenburg]**  
fuck him  
**[Greenburg]**  
ur still da best

“Thank God,” Derek sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. Thank God, someone with something nice to say. Okay, so two assholes and one nice one so far. That was good.

He moved on to the next one, and made a face.

**[Heather]**  
wow  
**[Heather]**  
that explains a lot  
**[Heather]**  
FYI the hottie settled  
**[Heather]**  
you’re not good enough for him

Shit. That meant those pictures of him and Stiles had made it home. Derek had kind of been assuming that whoever had done this had just been _telling_  people, but if they were commenting on Derek, it meant the pictures were somewhere public and visible.

Dammit. God fucking _dammit_!

He almost didn’t want to continue, but he did, going to the next message.

**[Matt]**  
wish id known you were into dicks earlier  
**[Matt]**  
wouldve let you suck mine  
**[Matt]**  
you have a great mouth  
**[Matt]**  
and maybe shoving something into it wouldve shut you up

Well this person Derek was just going to punch in the fucking face. Though he was now on four out of five being negative. If the next one was negative, he was going to give up and just turn the phone off.

He stared at the contact’s name. Danny.

“Please don’t be an asshole, Danny,” he said quietly. “If you are, I can’t call his dad. Please be a decent human being.”

Taking a slow breath, he hit the message and saw the scroll bar shift upwards slightly, as if there were a number of messages and the phone was prompting him to start from the oldest one.

**[Danny]**  
He took it down  
**[Danny]**  
That wasn’t right  
**[Danny]**  
He shouldn’t have done that to you  
**[Danny]**  
I don’t care how much you guys hate each other  
**[Danny]**  
That was a fucking dick move and he’s a piece of garbage  
**[Danny]**  
I’m really sorry that happened to you  
**[Danny]**  
I wish you’d told me  
**[Danny]**  
I could’ve helped you  
**[Danny]**  
I’m still willing to help you  
**[Danny]**  
I’m here for you buddy

Whoever Danny was, he’d just saved Derek from turning off the phone and burying it where no one would ever find it. Someone decent. Someone who cared, and was worried, and thought the person who’d done this was a piece of garbage. Thank God.

Thank fucking _God_.

**[Jackson]**  
like my new FB profile pic?  
**[Jackson]**  
it really captures the essence of ur gayness

Okay, so _this_  was the asshole Derek had to murder. He felt like he recalled, in the far back recesses of his mind, Stiles mentioning that name. It was back when Derek had muscled his way into his room and Stiles had had his panic attack. He’d worried about two people at the school, because they were from back home.

Scott.

And Jackson.

So Jackson was the one who’d done this. Derek was going to find out his last name and fucking _bury_  him. He was going to get him expelled. This was bullying and it was almost like encouraging suicide and Derek was _not_  having it. This guy deserved to be punished for his actions, and Derek would fucking see to it _personally_!

**[Jackson]**  
i took it down  
**[Jackson]**  
its not a big deal  
**[Jackson]**  
ur being fucking stupid  
**[Jackson]**  
where tf even ARE u?  
**[Jackson]**  
u were supposed 2 b home by now

Derek felt some satisfaction with that last message, because it looked like he was getting a little concerned. Like this Jackson person had heard that Stiles was supposed to be back by now and wasn’t. Like he was starting to wonder if Stiles was even okay.

Good. _Good_. Derek _wanted_  him to be worried, because he deserved it for what he’d done.

The next message did the same thing as the one from that Danny guy, opening and immediately shifting up in the message, as if there had been a lot of them that had been missed. He slowly scrolled down the list and smiled a little. He knew this person by name only, and she sounded really sweet, and he was glad she was so nice.

**[Kira]**  
Stiles please don’t worry about this  
**[Kira]**  
I’m so so sorry this happened  
**[Kira]**  
Jackson is an asshole  
**[Kira]**  
Lydia made him take it down  
**[Kira]**  
You are an amazing, kind human being  
**[Kira]**  
This changes nothing okay?  
**[Kira]**  
You’re so amazing and we love you  
**[Kira]**  
Stiles can you please let someone know you’re okay?  
**[Kira]**  
Please call someone, we’re all really worried  
**[Kira]**  
Stiles please respond

He was moving into the realm of people worried about him. It made sense, Derek supposed. The people texting him further down had only done so a few times. The people who were worried would be texting more often, pushing their messages higher and higher in the list.

He thought about ‘Old Man Stilinski’ being at the top, but wasn’t brave enough to look yet. What if it was just constant shouts of disgust and threats of death? No, he needed more of a spine before he looked there, so he went to the next one.

**[Lydia]**  
I made him take it down  
**[Lydia]**  
I didn’t know, I’m sorry  
**[Lydia]**  
Stiles  
**[Lydia]**  
I need you to call me  
**[Lydia]**  
Stiles, call me or I’ll hunt you down  
**[Lydia]**  
Please call me  
**[Lydia]**  
Stiles, please.  
**[Lydia]**  
PLEASE call me.  
**[Lydia]**  
Stiles I’m really, really worried, please call me  
**[Lydia]**  
Stiles please! Please call me!

Next one. He recognized the last name, and realized as he read that it was Scott’s mother.

**[Mama McCall]**  
sweetie i know you’re scared  
**[Mama McCall]**  
and upset  
**[Mama McCall]**  
and angry  
**[Mama McCall]**  
but it’s okay  
**[Mama McCall]**  
i promise you it’s okay  
**[Mama McCall]**  
scott loves you  
**[Mama McCall]**  
i love you  
**[Mama McCall]**  
your dad loves you  
**[Mama McCall]**  
please call me  
**[Mama McCall]**  
please just call me  
**[Mama McCall]**  
stiles you have no idea how worried we are  
**[Mama McCall]**  
uou need to call someone  
**[Mama McCall]**  
stiles please

Derek had to take a second after reading that, putting the phone down and rubbing his face with both hands, feeling so much relief it hurt. It wasn’t his dad, so he didn’t know for sure that she was telling the truth, but she was insisting Stiles’ father loved him. So if she was right, if she was being _honest_ , then everything was okay.

It was all going to be okay.

He let out a slow breath, and saw he only had one message left before ‘Old Man Stilinski,’ so he decided to read those first. They were from Scott, and Derek knew he was important to Stiles.

The more he read from that particular chain, the angrier he got. Scott was definitely in the ‘I don’t really get it but you’re my friend but it’s weird and I don’t get it’ category. At least he wasn’t in the hateful category, but Derek was definitely going to have to sit him down and coach him on how to _not_  be a dick about this.

**[Scotty]**  
dude is it true?  
**[Scotty]**  
are you really...  
**[Scotty]**  
i mean for real?  
**[Scotty]**  
since when?  
**[Scotty]**  
its just so weird  
**[Scotty]**  
you seem totally straight  
**[Scotty]**  
and i mean how did this happen?  
**[Scotty]**  
was it derek?  
**[Scotty]**  
i know you guys were close but...  
**[Scotty]**  
like  
**[Scotty]**  
did he DO this?  
**[Scotty]**  
make you gay?  
**[Scotty]**  
or were you always gay?  
**[Scotty]**  
its not...  
**[Scotty]**  
i mean did you ever like look at me that way?  
**[Scotty]**  
its cool if you did just...  
**[Scotty]**  
you should’ve said something  
**[Scotty]**  
hey can you text me back?  
**[Scotty]**  
where are you?  
**[Scotty]**  
stiles i’m getting kinda worried  
**[Scotty]**  
your dad said you weren’t on your flight  
**[Scotty]**  
hey can you answer your phone?  
**[Scotty]**  
stiles can you text me back?  
**[Scotty]**  
can you call me?  
**[Scotty]**  
can you please text me back?  
**[Scotty]**  
stiles where are you?  
**[Scotty]**  
stiles please call me  
**[Scotty]**  
stiles I’m sorry  
**[Scotty]**  
i’m sorry can you please call me?  
**[Scotty]**  
stiles PLEASE call me!  
**[Scotty]**  
stiles **PLEASE** call me!!!

Derek closed out of the message and stared at the last one from ‘Old Man Stilinski.’ Based on Scott and his mother’s messages, he knew it wouldn’t be _as_  bad as he’d originally thought, but he still didn’t know if his dad was just worried something had happened to him and would forget he existed once he knew he was fine, or if he was truly, deeply worried and wanted to go to him immediately.

Letting out a slow breath, he tapped on the message, this scroll bar going up higher than any others, and he began to read.

**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
Son, I just heard about what happened  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
If this is what you were so upset about all year  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
I need you to know that you have nothing to be upset about  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
Because there is nothing to be upset about  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
You like men? No problem, as long as whoever you’re with treats you right  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
Scott said the guy’s name is Derek  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
And that he’s a really nice fourth year  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
And he was your RA?  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
I think that’s great, Stiles  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
I wish you had told me  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
I’m sorry you didn’t feel comfortable telling me this  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
I’m sorry if I ever did or said anything that made you think you couldn’t tell me this  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
I’m sorry I didn’t know how much you needed to talk to me  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
If I did something that made you think you couldn’t be honest with me, son, I’m sorry  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
I never want you to think you can’t tell me things  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
And I hate that you kept this bottled up like you did  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
I wish I knew what I could’ve done differently to make you comfortable enough to tell me this  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
You’re my son, Stiles  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
I love you more than anything, you hear?  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
I LOVE you  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
And I don’t care who you date  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
As long as they treat you right  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
So I’ll see you in a couple hours when you get home  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
And I want to sit down and hear about this Derek guy  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
Stiles, where are you?  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
Your plane landed but I haven’t seen you come out yet  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
Stiles they said you didn’t make your flight  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
stiles your school is saying they dont know where you are  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
son im gonna need you to answer me.  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
stiles where are you???  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
the school cant tell me where you are! stiles i need you to answer me!  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
why is your phone still off????  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
stiles your phone has been off for WAY too long i really need you to call me  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
stiles please call me!  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
son i am way past the point of worried i really need you to call me  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
if you dont want to talk to me i understand i can give you space but please contact someone  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
i cant trace your phone stiles i need you to turn on your phone  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
stiles please!  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
are you okay?  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
tell me youre okay!  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
stiles i need you to be okay!  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
please stiles! answer your phone!  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
stiles!  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
im begging you!  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
stiles i am BEGGING you! please answer me!  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
i need you to respond!  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
stiles answer me!  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
stiles please dont do this  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
ypu cant do tis to me!!  
**[Old Man Stilinski]**  
stiles you need to repsod to em,!!

Derek had one hand over his mouth, and he was struggling not to let tears spill over, because his eyes were brimming with them.

His dad loved him so much. His dad _loved_  him _so_  much! He didn’t give a damn about Derek, or about Stiles liking men, or about anything related to this entire situation. He’d been looking _forward_  to seeing him, to talking to him. He’d apologized for making Stiles think he couldn’t talk to him. He cared about him.

And he was worried about him.

He was so, so worried about him.

Derek had to call him. He knew he had to call him, but he was so fucking scared. Because what if his dad started yelling at him? Asking Derek what he’d done, what he’d done to his son, why he hadn’t called sooner. Derek was scared.

But he had to do it.

Just when he’d reached down with his other hand to exit the messages, the screen flickered, and then a call started up.

_Old Man Stilinski_ was flashing on the screen.

Derek stared at it. He knew he should answer it, finger hovering, but he was scared. He was so fucking scared.

But not nearly as scared as Mr. Stilinski was right now. He’d been texting and calling for hours, and this was probably the first time the call hadn’t gone straight to voicemail. And Derek remembered the few minutes of terror, when he’d been driving back to campus, when he’d been banging on Stiles’ door. When he hadn’t known he was okay.

He remembered how terrifying and horrible that had been, and it had been under twenty minutes for him.

This was Stiles’ _father_ , and he’d been desperately trying to reach him for _hours_.

Derek swallowed his fear and answered the call, putting the phone to his ear.

He didn’t even get a word out before an almost hysterical voice sounded on the other end.

_“Stiles! Oh my God, Stiles! Stiles, are you okay? Where are you? Where are you, son? Please, please, it’s okay, just tell me where you are. I need to come and get you. Please, where are you?”_

Derek’s chest ached. His father would never react like this over him, and to hear someone so fucking worried for their child was both such an insane relief and also the hugest blow to his heart. But this wasn’t about him. It was about Stiles. And his father.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said quietly. He’d been intending to follow up with an explanation as to why he hadn’t called him sooner to tell him Stiles was okay, but he didn’t get the chance, and he realized his mistake only when the man on the other end was screaming and sobbing.

_“No! No, no, no! No, don’t you fucking say that! Don’t you **fucking**  say that! Where is he?! Where’s my son?! I swear to God, don’t you fucking tell me you’re sorry! He’s fine! He’s fucking **fine** , don’t you dare say—”_

“He’s fine,” Derek blurted out, cutting the man off before he gave him a heart attack. He hadn’t been thinking when he’d started with an apology. Of course the man would think the worst! A strange person answering his son’s phone and apologizing? Of _course_  he was going to panic!

“He’s fine,” Derek said again loudly. “I promise you, he’s sleeping, he’s right down the hall, he’s fine. He’s fine, he’s fine.” If he said it enough times, maybe it would be true.

_“Oh God. Oh my God.”_ He had to give the man a few minutes because he was crying on the other end and Derek bit the inside of his cheek as hard as he could to stop from crying himself.

Stiles was so fucking scared his dad would find out and hate him. He’d spent years hiding who he was, terrified of letting anyone know because his _dad_ meant the _world_ to him.

It seemed as though he’d never considered that he meant the fucking _universe_  to his dad.

“I’m sorry it took so long to call,” Derek said when the man seemed to have calmed himself down a little bit. “Stiles wouldn’t give us your number, and I only just managed to get his phone. I’m very sorry for how worried this situation made you. But I promise you, he’s sleeping down the hall. He’s okay. He didn’t—” Derek cut himself off, chest constricting at the thought of how fucking scared his dad must’ve been. “He didn’t do anything stupid.”

It took a second for Mr. Stilinski to speak, clearly still trying to get himself back under control.

_“Where is he?”_

“My place. My name is Derek.”

_“You’re the boyfriend.”_

He winced and chose not to answer. He didn’t actually know if that was even true anymore. Stiles probably hated him.

_“Son, I need you to tell me how to get to your place. If you don’t, I will find you, and you will not like that. I need to get to Stiles. So you tell me where he is right now.”_

Derek glanced towards the corridor, and he knew Stiles would hate him for this. He knew how angry he would be if Derek went behind his back and brought his dad here.

But the man loved him. And he was so fucking worried about him. And Derek couldn’t let the two of them spend another fucking second apart when all they had to do was _talk_.

“I don’t want to leave Stiles alone. My mother will pick you up from JFK when you land. I’ll text you her number so you can call her once you’ve booked your flight and give her the details.”

_“You text me **now**. I am not letting you hang up until I know I’m going to see my son.”_

“Sure.” Derek pulled his phone out and had to put the call on speaker so he could go to Stiles’ contacts and find his dad’s number. He typed it into his phone as a new message, then texted his mother’s number to him. “I just sent it. Please confirm receipt.”

Silence for a moment, then he said, _“Thank you.”_ and hung up.

Derek stared at Stiles’ phone for a long while, feeling his heart beginning to pound in his chest.

Stiles was going to be furious. But it was the right thing to do.

He went to his own contacts in his phone and found his mother’s number, feeling guilty for the late hour but needing to give her a heads up.

She answered groggily a few seconds later.

“Mom, you’re gonna get a call in a little while from Stiles’ father. I’m gonna need you to make sure you pick up.”

* * *

Stiles felt like he was dying. He didn’t know if it was the lack of sustenance or just how much his life fucking sucked right then, but he literally felt like he was dying. His stomach ached constantly, his chest felt like it was being constricted, and everything hurt. His fucking eyelids hurt. This was the worst. Everything was the worst.

He’d lost everything.

He’d fucking lost _everything_.

His dad was never—he was never going to want to look at him again. He was never going to speak to him again. He was probably thrilled Stiles hadn’t gotten on that plane to come home.

Stiles couldn’t have handled it if he’d landed and his dad wasn’t there to pick him up.

And he knew he wouldn’t be. Because Stiles couldn’t help but feel like he was disgusting and wrong and an abomination. He was going to hell, he deserved eternal damnation. Derek was wrong, this wasn’t okay, this was never okay, and he shouldn’t have listened to him.

Stiles kept alternating between hating Derek and never wanting to let him go. This was all Derek’s fault, because if he hadn’t found out, if he hadn’t pushed, if they hadn’t gotten together, his dad never would’ve found out.

Jackson never would’ve noticed them making out in Derek’s room. He never would’ve taken a picture. He never would’ve posted it everywhere for everyone to see.

This was Derek’s fault, except it wasn’t.

Because Stiles was the one who was gay. And because he was the one who was gay, he felt like _he_  was the abomination. He felt like he was the disgusting, worthless piece of shit. Stiles knew he was the one who was _wrong_ , who liked guys, who wanted to be with guys. It was Stiles’ fault because he was the one who was fucked up. Derek had just been there. He just happened to be there, someone Stiles could kiss and feel good with.

And it was only a matter of time before Derek left, too.

What then? What would Stiles do? He had nowhere else to go, and he had no idea how he was going to continue on in life like this. He had a scholarship for university, so he supposed he could finish that up, but what about room and board? What about food? Or his textbooks? He didn’t have anything saved up for that. He had some money, sure, but not enough for three more years.

And what would he do in the summers? Hell, what was he going to do for the rest of _this_  summer? Derek wasn’t going to let him stick around forever. He was going to kick him out eventually.

He shouldn’t have done that.

Why had he gone to the Halloween party?

Why had he made out with Derek?

Why did he like guys?

He felt like he was wrong, and gross, and this was terrible and he deserved it. He deserved everything that was happening to him.

He should go. He should just go before Derek kicked him out. Before everyone just abandoned him. He should leave before they had the chance.

It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. Why couldn’t he just be normal? Why couldn’t he just be _normal_?

He felt the bed dip behind him, strong arms wrapping around him and pulling him closer.

He both loved and hated those arms. Because they promised security, but he also knew they would one day disappear. Derek was going to realize Stiles was garbage, that he didn’t really like men, that Stiles had just been an experiment and that Derek was _normal_  and he’d go find himself a girlfriend.

Stiles didn’t want to lose him. He’d already lost everyone, it would kill him if he lost Derek, too.

He was literally all he had left.

“Stiles?” Derek said softly. “I made some breakfast. I’d really like it if you’d come eat with me. I know it hurts. And it’s hard. But I love you. And I want you to be okay.”

Okay? _Okay_?! Stiles was never going to fucking be okay again! Not _ever_!

He wanted to turn and yell at Derek. To scream and rage and punch at him. To hurt him, and destroy him, and just have him _leave him alone_ because he would in the end anyway and he may as well just do it now.

Do it now, now, now.

But Stiles didn’t have that much energy in him. It was taking everything he had not to just go back to sleep. And his stomach ached with hunger, and fear, and sadness, but also hunger. He needed to eat something, but he worried he’d just throw it back up.

He’d thrown up the toast yesterday. He didn’t think Talia or Derek had noticed, but he’d thrown it up right before his shower.

The water had probably covered up the sounds of his heaving.

He didn’t want to eat and throw up again. He wanted to just lie there and dissolve into nothing. To disappear. To just... not exist anymore.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly. “Come on. Please just come eat with me. Only for a minute.”

He didn’t want to. He didn’t have the energy. But that also meant that when Derek carefully started peeling back the blankets, he didn’t have enough energy to stop him. He just let him do as he pleased, and Derek grabbed his arm gently and eased him upright. Stiles slapped his hand away, and Derek retreated it immediately.

They both stayed motionless for a time, Stiles sitting up in bed and Derek standing beside him, waiting for him to make a decision. He didn’t want to lie back down, but he didn’t want to get up, either.

Derek bent down in front of him, taking his face in his hands. “Stiles. I am right here. I’m not going to leave you, I promise.”

He’d promised him a lot of things, and none of those had panned out.

But Stiles didn’t say that, because Derek didn’t deserve that. He hadn’t meant for this to happen, and even if Stiles hated him, he also loved him, and he just wanted to stop feeling. To turn everything off. To just not exist anymore.

He got up.

It took a herculean effort, and it was almost more trouble than it was worth, but he got up.

Derek took his hand and led him out of the bedroom and to the kitchen. Stiles expected Talia to be there, but she wasn’t. She’d probably decided Stiles was a lost cause and had left.

Stiles didn’t blame her.

She’d been nice, though. Derek’s mother was really nice.

“Come on. Sit down.” Derek got Stiles beside one of the stools and he obediently sat, staring down at the piece of toast and cup of water. He didn’t want either of these things. He wanted to just waste away into nothing.

Derek sat down beside him, one hand rubbing at his back gently. Stiles didn’t say anything. He just sat and stared at his plate. Derek didn’t push for him to eat anything. He just kept rubbing his back in a comforting fashion.

They had to be sitting there for ten minutes when someone knocked at the door.

Maybe Talia hadn’t left after all.

Derek kissed his temple and got to his feet. “I love you Stiles. I promise I love you. And I won’t leave you.”

Stiles didn’t have an answer to that, so he just turned to watch Derek walk away from him. He patted his pockets, as if to make sure he had his phone and keys, and Stiles found that to be a weird thing to do while going to answer the door.

He was also wearing his shoes. Derek didn’t usually wear shoes indoors.

He rounded the corner where the entrance was, and Stiles heard the door open. No one said anything, and then the door shut, and when Derek came back around the corner, Stiles lurched to his feet with his heart in his throat and his legs shaky because it wasn’t Derek.

It wasn’t Derek, it wasn’t Derek, _it wasn’t Derek_.

His dad was there.

His dad was right fucking there, and he looked terrible.

And he was rushing forward and Stiles scrambled back, but he hit a counter, and he had nowhere else to go, and his dad was coming at him and he clenched his eyes shut and waited for the assault, waited for the harsh words, and the agony, and the destruction of his entire world.

His dad grabbed the back of his neck with one hand and wrapped the other around his shoulders, wrenching Stiles against him so hard it physically hurt. His face was in the collar of his dad’s coat, and he could feel his father’s cheek against the side of his head.

“How could you do that to me?” the man demanded, voice raised and pain laced in every word. “Stiles, how could you _do_  that to me?! I thought you had—Stiles, I thought—how could you? How could you scare me like that? How could you do that to me, Stiles?”

_I’m sorry,_ Stiles wanted to say. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll be better, I’ll try and fix it, I’ll stop liking guys, I’ll start dating girls, I’ll be better._

“Stiles, I was so fucking scared. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were okay. How could you scare me like that? Oh God.”

His dad was crying, and Stiles could feel himself starting to cry again too, but he didn’t understand, because his dad’s words were confusing, and nothing made sense, and why was he hugging him like he was scared he would disappear if he let him go?

“I’m sorry, Stiles. I’m so sorry. Whatever I did, whatever actions led to me being a bad father, I’m sorry. I should’ve been better. I should’ve done something to make you know you could talk to me about this. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you didn’t want to tell me. I’m so sorry you thought you _couldn’t_  tell me. Whatever I did, whatever made you think I couldn’t know this, I’m so sorry. I’m _so_ , so sorry, Stiles.”

Stiles was crying harder because he didn’t understand. This couldn’t be happening, because his dad was apologizing, and he wasn’t angry, and he didn’t let him go and he was _here_.

He was here, here, here.

Reaching up with both hands, Stiles grabbed desperately at the back of his dad’s coat, clinging to him like his life depended on it, and sobbed into his neck. Because his dad was here, and he was holding him, and he wasn’t calling him disgusting or wrong or saying he was an abomination. He wasn’t saying Stiles wasn’t his son anymore, that he hated him, that he wished he’d never been born.

He was right fucking here, holding him so tightly, and Stiles didn’t know what to do.

So he just cried.

“It’s okay, son. It’s okay.” His dad was rubbing the back of his head, rocking him gently from side to side, even as his voice broke, even as he himself continued to cry. “It’s okay, son, I’ve got you. You’re okay. Everything’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Stiles wanted someone to punch him, because he felt like he was asleep. He felt like he was dreaming, that his dad wasn’t here, that he was still alone in the bed and that everything was awful and terrible and that his world was ending.

But he was being held _so_  tightly. And he was gripping his dad _so_  hard. Everything hurt, but not like it had a few minutes before. Everything hurt, so he wasn’t dreaming. Everything hurt, so this was real.

His dad kept shushing him, insisting everything was okay, that he was right there, that he was going to be okay. Stiles didn’t know how long they were standing there holding each other and crying, but it didn’t feel long enough. Even though it had to have been a long, _long_  time because his legs were shaky and his throat was sore, and everything was so hard, he felt like it wasn’t nearly long enough.

Eventually though, his dad rubbed at his back, then shifted so he could grab Stiles’ face with both hands and pull him away. Stiles didn’t let him go, gripping the back of his jacket and afraid he was about to get pushed aside, but his dad only pulled his face back far enough to get a good look at him.

He was still crying, and it looked like he’d aged since Stiles had last seen him. There were deep lines along his face, his eyes were bloodshot, and he had bags beneath them, like he hadn’t slept for days.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, Stiles, you hear me? Don’t _ever_  do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry,” he forced out. “Dad, I’m _sorry_.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he insisted. “Just don’t ever scare me like that again.” He leaned forward and kissed his forehead, then his temple, then the crown of his head and hugged him again. “I thought I lost you. Jesus Christ, Stiles, I thought you’d done something irreversible and I was so scared I was never going to see you again. Don’t ever do that to me again, understand?”

“I’m sorry,” he insisted again, still crying. “I’m sorry, I’ll be better, I’ll fix this, I’ll stop liking guys, I’ll do anyth—”

“Hey!” His dad was pulling at his face again, forcing him to look at him and gripping the sides of his head tightly. “You listen to me, Stiles. You are _perfect_  exactly as you are, understand? You are _not_  going to stop liking who you want, and there is _nothing_  wrong with you. You hear me? You are perfect, and I am so, so proud of you. I am so fucking proud of you, son.”

Stiles started ugly crying again. He tried to stop it, but he couldn’t, because this couldn’t be real, and he didn’t know what to do, and he wanted his dad to love him and he didn’t know what to do.

When his weight started being too heavy for his legs to hold him, Stiles just let his knees buckle. His dad was still holding him so he didn’t just collapse onto the floor, but he lowered him slowly and then sat beside him against the cabinet, pulling Stiles into his side and kissing his temple, both arms wrapped securely around him.

“You listen to me, Stiles,” he said, voice tight, like he was trying not to cry some more. “I know this is going to be a long, hard road for us. I know it’s a change, and it’s scary, and you’re going to have to be a little patient with me. But you’re my son, and I love you. I love everything about you. I love how smart you are, because I always knew you would be something great someday. I love how much trouble you can get yourself into, because it showed me that you were independent and that you could handle anything the world threw at you. I love how honest you are, because it means I raised someone who would always do the right thing. I love that you’re gay, Stiles, because it means you know what you want. I love everything about you. I don’t care if you like men, I don’t care if you like women. I care that you are happy, and healthy.

“As long as you’re being treated right, and as long as you’re happy, that is _all_  that matters. To me, that’s all that has _ever_  mattered. I just want you to be happy and healthy and in a good place. I want you to be comfortable with who you are, and enjoy your life how _you_  want to live it. No one has the right to tell you who you can and cannot love, that’s entirely up to you, and I don’t care who it is so long as they treat you the way you deserve to be treated.

“And I’m sorry, Stiles. I’m so sorry. I did something that made you think this wasn’t okay. I did something, or I said something, and if I ever made any comments, or told an off-colour joke, or I implied this would ever be a problem, I’m so sorry. I would take it back, I would take it _all_  back if I knew it would’ve changed this. I wish you had told me, I wish I had made you feel comfortable enough to tell me. I wish I hadn’t made everything more difficult for you, because you’re my son, and I love you, and I should’ve known about this. I never wanted you to feel like you couldn’t be honest with me about something like this. I never wanted you to feel like this was a problem, because it’s not.

“Stiles, this is _not_  a problem, you understand? You hear me? This is not a problem. If you were doing drugs, or stealing, or joining a gang, that would be a problem to me. Breaking the law, or causing yourself harm is a problem to me. But this? This isn’t a problem, Stiles. This is who you are, and who you _are_  is my _son_ , and I love every piece of you. Every last piece. You are gay, or bisexual, or demisexual, and I don’t care. The only thing I care about is for you to tell me which one you are, and tell me what I need to know to make sure that I never do or say anything that will cause you any harm. Because I want you to correct me if I say something I shouldn’t, because I would expect the same courtesy from you.

“I am going to make mistakes, Stiles. I’ve already made enough of them to have led us here, but I’m going to fix them. I’m going to make sure you know that no matter what, I’m here for you. And I want you to tell me everything. Even if it’s uncomfortable. Even if it’s scary. Even if it’s embarrassing. I want you to talk to me, because you’re my son, and I love you, I love you so much, and I am here for you. I am always here for you. Do you understand, Mieczyslaw?”

Stiles couldn’t stop crying. He felt exhausted, and his eyes hurt, and his throat hurt, and everything hurt, but his chest was loosening up, and his father was here, and the world was less shitty, and maybe this would be okay. Maybe he could be okay. Because his dad was here, and he loved him, and he didn’t care, and this was all he wanted, this was everything he’d ever wanted, and he should’ve told him. He should’ve told him everything, but he was so scared, and he wanted to say he was _sorry_ , because his dad was loving, and wonderful, and perfect, and he should’ve told him, but he was so fucking scared. And he’d never done anything wrong, he’d never made Stiles feel like he couldn’t tell him, he just hadn’t because he was a coward, and now they were here, and he couldn’t tell him how much he loved him, because he couldn’t stop crying, but he loved him, he loved him, he loved him.

He just nodded, holding his dad tighter, and the older man rested his cheek against Stiles’ head, still pulling him tightly into him.

“We’re gonna sit here for a little while,” he said quietly. “We’re gonna sit here, and cry, and when you’re ready, we’re gonna go sit on the couch and we’re gonna talk. Because I want us to talk about this, Stiles. I want to know everything, because I missed so much of your life by not knowing, and never again. So when you’re ready and we’re both done crying, we’re gonna go sit on that couch over there, and you’re gonna tell me everything I missed.”

Stiles nodded again, but he felt like his dad would be waiting an exceptionally long time.

He was nowhere _near_  done crying.

* * *

Derek was wringing his hands together so tightly that they were actually hurting. He kept checking his phone to see if there were any updates, but knew that was kind of pointless. If things were going well, neither would be texting. If things were going badly, Stiles wouldn’t be texting, and Mr. Stilinski would be long gone and forget Derek existed.

He liked to be optimistic and think things were going well, but only because he was sitting in the lobby of his new building, and that was the only way in and out without going through the garage, which needed a special fob Mr. Stilinski didn’t have.

Thus, Derek was keeping watch on the exit.

He knew he should leave, give them space, but he was worried to go too far in case something happened. And also kind of, sort of, maybe was keeping an eye on the door to make sure Mr. Stilinski didn’t leave.

A hand fell onto his clasped ones and he turned to look at his mother. She was smiling at him, squeezing his hands.

“It’s a good sign. It’s been a long time, everything will be okay.”

“Hopefully,” he said softly. When she released his hands, he checked his phone again. Only the group chat was active right now.

It was mostly just Isaac texting the rest of them. He was out right then and asking if anyone needed groceries, and if Erica and Boyd were done having sex so he could come back, and if there was any news on Stiles.

Derek felt like, if things went well, he really should have a dinner with all five of them, because it was really nice seeing how concerned his friends were for Stiles.

Then again, he was their friend too, so he supposed it made sense. Still, having the five of them in his apartment, eating pizza and watching a movie would probably be nice to bring everyone back to some semblance of normal.

It occurred to him that if things went well, Stiles and his dad would probably head home. He didn’t know how long Mr. Stilinski was planning on staying, since he apparently hadn’t brought anything with him aside from a small overnight bag that was still sitting in the trunk of the Camaro. His mother had taken his car, since she didn’t have her own, so it was still just sitting in there.

Derek was really hungry, but he didn’t want to leave. It had been close to six hours, and he was just hoping everything was all right upstairs. He resisted the urge to go and check. Just walk up to his door and press his ear against the wood. He was sure he’d hear something if he tried hard enough.

He glanced at his mother when she reached out to brush some hair off his forehead, smiling at him.

“You turned out to be a great man, Derek.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You were trying so hard to help someone. And when things didn’t go as planned, you did what you had to do to fix it.”

“I’m just lucky his dad wasn’t like mine,” he muttered.

His mom smiled and pulled his head close with one hand, kissing his forehead. “You’re a great man, Derek,” she repeated.

They sat in silence for another half hour, Derek constantly checking his phone. Eventually the messages in the group chat died down, and when he checked his phone again, he almost dropped it in his haste to read the text because it had come from Stiles.

**[Stiles]**  
you can come back

Derek got to his feet, showing the phone to his mother. She smiled and stood as well, smoothing out the wrinkles in her pants, and wrapping one arm around her son’s waist while they walked to the elevators. He pulled her into his side, and when they got into the lift, he shifted to hug her properly, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

“Thanks mom.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did _everything_. Thank you for being so amazing.”

She just laughed and patted his back a few times.

When the doors opened, they stepped out, Derek leading the way and walking perhaps a little faster than necessary. He kind of just wanted to burst into the apartment—theoretically he could, since it was his—but he thought it would be more appropriate to knock.

He was still kind of worried Stiles would be pissed at him for telling his dad where he was, but it had been for a good cause. And hopefully things had worked out.

It sounded like they had. Stiles was texting, which meant he wasn’t shut down and numb anymore.

Derek knocked on the door, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. It opened a few seconds later, Stiles on the other side of it. His hair was a mess, he was pale and sickly looking, his eyes were bloodshot and he had tears tracks down both cheeks.

But he was here, and he wasn’t in bed, and he had the smallest smile on his face.

Derek felt a weight lift off him and he reached out one hand to press it against his right cheek, brushing his thumb beneath his eye.

“Hey you,” he said softly.

“Hi Derek.” Stiles reached out with one hand and took Derek’s other hand, squeezing tightly. “You came back fast.”

“I was downstairs. I said I wouldn’t leave you, and I meant it.”

“Thanks.” His eyes shifted to Derek’s mother. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” She smiled.

Stiles looked back at Derek, seeming almost uncomfortable, but also determined. “I want you to meet someone.”

And now Derek’s heart was pounding double time, because while he and Stiles’ dad had spoken on the phone, and he’d walked past the man out of his apartment, they hadn’t exactly _met_. But he just nodded and let Stiles pull him into the apartment, hand holding his tightly.

He pulled Derek towards the couch, where Mr. Stilinski was waiting, turned towards the door. He got to his feet with a groan and Stiles stopped a few steps away from him, holding Derek’s hand so tightly it was actually a little painful, bones grinding together.

Derek didn’t say anything, he just watched the older man apprehensively.

Stiles took a deep breath, then said, “Dad, this is my boyfriend, Derek.”

Mr. Stilinski smiled, and Derek felt such relief at how genuine it looked. He held out one hand, thankfully the opposite of the one Stiles was holding, and Derek shook his hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Derek. Stiles has only said good things.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, sir.”

Mr. Stilinski’s eyes shifted past Derek, nodding his head once. “You’ve raised a great son, Mrs. Hale.”

“I didn’t do too bad,” she agreed fondly. “I hear yours is pretty amazing himself.”

“I like to think he is.” Mr. Stilinski moved past Stiles, kissing his temple on his way by. “I’m starving, and Stiles promised me the best burger in New York. Would you like to join us?” He included Derek in this inquiry, and he smiled before nodding.

“I’d like that very much, sir.”

“Great. Let’s go get some food, and you can tell me about all the underage drinking my son did while he was at school.”

Derek managed a laugh while they headed to the door, still holding Stiles’ hand tightly. “Actually, he didn’t drink any alcohol the entire time I’ve known him.”

“Really? Well shit, I guess I owe him an apology.” He exited the apartment, looking both ways before heading for the elevator.

Derek’s mother followed, but before he and Stiles exited as well, Derek stopped him and pulled him back, inspecting his expression.

“Are you okay?”

Stiles let out a slow breath, shrugging. “Yes? I don’t know. Not entirely, but I will be.” He leaned forward and gave Derek a brief kiss on the lips, smiling when he pulled back. “I will be.”

Derek smiled. “Yeah. You really will.”

He kissed him again softly, then pulled him out of the apartment, turning to lock his door, and the two of them went to join their parents at the elevator, hand in hand.

Things weren’t great, and it would take a long time for them to be close to great, but at least for right now, things were okay.

Things were okay, and that was all that mattered.

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Assassin’s Creed © Patrice Désilets, Corey May & Jade Raymond  
> Voltron © Dreamworks  
> Catwoman © DC  
> Canterbury Tales © Chaucer  
> Star Wars © George Lucas  
> Bioshock © Ken Levine  
> Black Panther © Marvel


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